


It's Going to Kill Me

by alikatastic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Assisted Suicide, Bad Parent Frank Gallagher, Cancer, Co-Parenting, Death, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Drugs, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Fuck Frank Gallagher, Gun Violence, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Illness, Mickey Ian and Svetlana raise Yevgeny, Parenthood, Sad Ending, Seriously No Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Terry Milkovich Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29480271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikatastic/pseuds/alikatastic
Summary: "You don't get to fucking do that." He shook Ian with all his might. "You don't get to say things like I love you and fucking leave.""Mick," Ian started."No! you fucking listen. I have done everything I can to keep you safe."Ian shoved him, "You don't get it! It's going to kill me! I can't stay here; I can't pretend I don't love you.""Then don't."Mickey had convinced him to stay, and they built a family together with Svetlana, and the three of them raised a beautiful boy named Yev.Everything was going great until Ian got sick.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	It's Going to Kill Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sad story. I think it is beautiful, and I cried as I wrote it. Toward the end, there is a point of no return. If you make it there and go no further, you can pretend this is a happy tale, but if you decide to keep going, be prepared to be hurt.  
> Thank you to anyone who has decided to embark on this story of heartbreak and growth.  
> Also, I know I probably should have broken it up into chapters, but I didn't so, my bad.

Ian didn't know what to do. He didn't know how they made it out alive. Terry was a horrible, disgusting man, and Mickey was going to marry that whore. The whore who raped him at gunpoint. Ian knew it was just an unfortunate accident that she ended up pregnant, and if he could force her to abort, he would. He knew realistically this could ruin their lives, but he knew he couldn't stay away.

The way he saw it, he had two options. He could run, join the Army and never come back, or he could live out this fucked up scenario with Mickey. He knew what would be easy, but he didn't know if it was the right choice. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from loving the foul-mouthed thug. Mickey was under his skin.

He knew where Mickey would be; he always went there in times of trouble. He walked up the steps of the abandoned building in silence. He stepped through the door without alerting Mickey. He was glad to see the bruising was gone, and he looked better. He was drinking straight from the bottle, but he looked better.

"So, your getting married?"

Mickey scoffed as Ian stepped further into the room. He knew Mickey wouldn't be up to talking, not really. Ian had to fight back the urge to spew vile words, so he grabbed the bottle from Mickey and drank it down.

"What the fuck, Gallagher?"

Ian huffed as he took a seat on the dirty floor next to him. If Mickey didn't want to speak, he wasn't going to make him. There was nothing to say, really; Ian had to make the decision himself. He had hoped Mickey would make things easier, though. He hoped Mickey wouldn't push him away, it made it easier to leave, and Ian wasn't sure that was what he should do.

"He finally speaks." It was barely above a whisper, but he knew Mickey heard it.

Ian had dared to dream of the life they could have had. He knew it was pointless, but he had gotten his hopes up. Mickey had tried at every turn to quell any thoughts of a real relationship along the way, but Ian was a romantic. It was never white picket fences and tire swings, but it was them. He had dreamt that one day they wouldn't have to hide in the shadows, but he knew there was no chance of that now. Terry would kill them both. Ian didn't mind if he died, but he couldn't stomach the thought of Mickey being murdered by his own father.

"Fuck you, man." Mickey's voice was tired, and Ian wondered if he had been sleeping.

He knew he hadn't been, not well at least. He would lay in bed for hours, but sleep would never come. The day Terry found them was replaying over and over in his mind. He knew it was probably the same for Mickey. He was the one hurt, so Ian couldn't really say anything about it. Ian knew he was just the shitty kind of boyfriend who watched it all happen. He couldn't even give the man he loved reassurance.

"Yeah, fuck me." Ian pulled out his pack of smokes and lit one.

He thought that was really why he wanted to leave because he was a shit person. He watched horrible things happen and didn't try to help. He knew Terry had a gun, but there had to be something he could have done. Terry was a cunt and that whore - fuck her, but Ian knew he was the bad guy too. He had never been so ashamed of himself in his life.

"What are you doing here, man? I thought I made it clear, you need to stay away from me."

Mickey sounded fed up, and Ian thought maybe there was hate there. Maybe Mickey hated Ian and didn't want to see him anymore. He never really wanted to be with Ian initially, and now Ian had caused all of this. He was beaten and raped because of Ian. He quickly smoked his cigarette down to the butt, then looked at Mickey. He didn't see any disgust, but he could clearly see the frustration etched in his handsome face.

He tossed the but and stood slowly. "Yeah, I should go."

He didn't look back as he left, and Mickey didn't stop him. What did surprise him was the way he felt. He laid in bed the next few hours crying all the tears he could manage. He had hoped it would relieve some of his sorrow, but he felt like his world was still shattering. He didn't move from his spot for almost 18 hours, and no one noticed. Ian didn't know if that was a godsend or if it made his blanket feel heavier. There was no light at the end of his dark tunnel, and no one was there to help. He had never felt so genuinely alone before.

When Ian finally could lift himself out of bed, no one was around. He didn't know where his family was, but he was glad no one was there to witness his downfall. He hadn't pissed in almost two days, and he didn't think he was going to make it. His body was stiff and heavy as he shuffled to the bathroom. A strangled sob left his throat when he almost made it. He changed course and crawled into the bathtub, where he laid down. He turned the water on, as hot as it would go. His skin felt like it was melting, and Ian watched it turn bright red. He didn't know how long he sat there, but he couldn't feel the cold water that was battering his skin.

When he got out, he cleaned the mess on the floor and threw his wet clothes in the dirty laundry. He looked around the messy room, knowing he had made his decision. He couldn't stay here. There was nothing for him here. His family would not even notice he was gone, and Mickey would probably be happy. He wouldn't have to look at Ian anymore and see what happened. He wouldn't have to see Ian fail to protect him again.

He avoided everyone for the next few days as he planned his departure. He thought about joining the Army under Lip's name but ultimately decided against it. He didn't think he could make it in the Army; he was weak, and no amount of training would change that. He had a bag packed under his bed, and he had a roll of cash tucked in his shoe at all times. He was ready to go at a moment's notice. He didn't know what moment he was waiting for, but he was prepared for when it happened.

He also had other thoughts that he buried down deep. It was getting harder to get out of bed; he didn't see the point in it anymore. He tried not to dwell on the thoughts that replayed in his mind, but they seemed to get louder every day. He thought it might be best for Mickey, and most likely his family, if he wasn't around anymore – maybe permanently. Tucked in his bag were two other ways out if he chose to do it that way, but Ian hoped it didn't come to that.

On the day of the wedding, Ian felt like his skeleton was made of lead, but he couldn't miss it. The love of his life was getting married to some commie whore. He didn't know when he admitted to himself that he loved Mickey, but he hated it. Every time he thought of his love, he would imagine the gun to the back of Mickey's head as the whore crawled into his lap, and Ian would become sick. It made Ian think of the Glock and note sitting in his bag, under the bed, but he hadn't decided who it was for.

The fact that he helped set up for Mickey's wedding made him want to gag. The place was trashy and small; Ian had always hoped their wedding would be less formal. He had imagined jeans and nice shirts. He had imagined shotgunning beers after their ceremony and fucking in the bathroom. He looked around, noticing all the whores in pink were bridesmaids, but there wasn't really anyone else. Mickey's brothers didn't even show up, and that made Ian sad. Weddings were supposed to be happy days, but the only happy person here was the raping hooker of a bride.

When he burst into the room upstairs, he could see Mickey in a panic, and that suit looked like shit on him. It didn't really, but Ian hated it. He hated that Mickey was going to do this. He couldn't hold back the rage he felt, especially when he saw the fear in Mickey's eyes.

"You push me away and call me a punk for wanting a boyfriend, but you're going to marry that hooker?"

Ian knew he shouldn't have said it like that; it wasn't Mickey's fault. He knew who was really to blame, and he had no right to take it out on Mickey.

"Who gives a shit? It's a fucking piece of paper."

That cut Ian in a way he didn't expect. He had hoped to have that fucking piece of paper one day. He didn't want Mickey to marry a whore who raped him at gunpoint; it wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

"Not to me." It was a whisper.

Ian hated the way Mickey shook his head as if Ian's feelings didn't matter. Which maybe they didn't. Ian had to get out of there; he knew he shouldn't have come, but he couldn't let this wedding happen without saying something. He needed Mickey to realize he wasn't okay with this. When he turned to walk away, he expected Mickey to let him.

"Come on, look. Just because I'm getting hitched doesn't mean we can't still bang."

That was the problem for Ian; it wasn't just banging. He wanted more, demanded more. He couldn't live a life as a dirty secret for the man he loved. He couldn't hide in the shadows forever, and that is why he needed to leave. Ian turned, looking at him with sad eyes.

"I know this is fucking hard, but please don't do this. Don't marry her."

Ian felt his heart crack when tears filled Mickey's eyes. They were at an impasse; neither could bridge the gap to the other. They were stuck staring at each other from opposite sides of the mountain, and Ian couldn't take it.

"I wish,"

Mickey didn't finish his sentence. Ian didn't think he knew the ending, but the kiss warmed his soul. He knew it didn't change anything, but he could pretend for a moment. The moment Mickey curled his fingers in Ian's hair, he knew he was gone. The sex was hot and aggressive; it always was. Ian wished he had time to savor it. He knew that this could be it, this could the last time. He wanted to remember how Mickey tasted – how he smelled. When it was over, Ian knew nothing had changed. He pressed a small kiss to Mickey's lips and pressed their foreheads together.

"I'm going to get out of here." Ian stood straight, backing away. "They're waiting on you."

He stopped at the bar snagging a half gallon-sized bottle of vodka. If anyone noticed or cared, he didn't see. He drank almost half the bottle on the way home. He was sick to his stomach and barely standing when he walked through the door. The voices in his head were getting louder with every sip, so he left the bottle on the counter as he stumbled up the worn stairs.

Ian knew he should have gone to bed, but he felt like he had something he needed to do. The note in his bag was for his family, but he felt like Mickey needed one too. He grabbed a mostly empty notebook from his desk and plopped down on his worn mattress with a pen.

_Dear Mick,_

_I'm glad you're reading this. No, wait, no, I'm not._

It wasn't off to a good start, and Ian rambled on for two pages, but he got down what he wanted. The next morning when he woke up, the notebook was still tucked under his head, and the pen was in his hand. He read over the note and frowned. It was sloppy, and it got his point across, but it was missing one thing.

_I will love you always ass hole,_

_Ian Clayton Gallagher_

He ripped out the pieces of paper and folded them up. Later he would find an envelope and seal it, and then he'll put it next to the other one. He thought it was kind of crazy that he had more to say to his almost kind of boyfriend than he did to his family, but it also made sense. He doubted his family would notice he was gone for at least a few days – maybe even a few weeks. He was always the looked over one. Lip tried to pretend like they had some profound brother bond, but he was off doing his own thing. Ian was left to struggle on his own; he had no one to talk to. His best friend was Mickey's sister, so he couldn't say anything to her without hurting Mick.

Later in the day, when the headache and nausea slipped away, he headed down to the river. He looked over the black water and pulled his coat tight. He knew the water would be cold. He jerked back in fear; for a split moment, he thought about jumping. He knew the thoughts had been on his mind lately, and they had been getting worse, but he didn't think he would act on them. For just a second, he could see himself falling into the water; he could see himself not fighting the current, and it made him feel peace. The idea of it all terrified him. At that moment, he knew he needed to leave.

The walk to the Milkovich house was terrifying, but he needed to see Mickey one more time. He felt disgusted with himself; he was weak, but there was no going back now. He walked up the steps with his hands deep in his pockets. He had made his decision; he would say goodbye, then he would be gone. They would never see him again.

Even though the decision was made, it was still hard for Ian to raise his hand and knock. He didn't want it to be over. He wanted to go back; he wanted to step back in time and turn down Mickey's offer to stay the night. Ian didn't know if that would solve the problem. He was always a little hurt about having to hide. He knew they couldn't be open, but he wanted to tell Mandy. He wanted to invite Mickey over for dinner, and it is not a big deal. In the grand scheme of things, he knew that wasn't viable. It would never have happened, simply because Terry would kill them. Ian knew now Terry would kill him any chance he got; he would probably make Mickey watch, and that alone terrified him.

He knocked on the door, and he could hear Mickey bellowing. Mandy snatched the door open, yelling back at Mickey to shut up. It almost made Ian smiled, but he didn't think he could anymore. The heavy blackness that crushed his chest wouldn't allow him to.

"Hey, Mands. I need to talk to you, but, ugh, I need to talk to Mick first." Ian ran his hand through his red hair and tried to give her a reassuring smile; he knew it fell flat. "Think you can give us some time alone?"

He could see the confusion written on her face, but she nodded. When Mickey yelled, "Who's at the door?" she yelled back, "It's for you."

She turned on heel and marched back into her room. Ian knew she would probably listen from the door, so Ian led them back into his room when he walked out.

"Wife made me take down all the Nazi shit," Mickey said with a smirk.

Ian would have laughed if he wasn't so sick. He hated the thought of her sleeping in his bed. Ian leaned against the closed door and cleared his throat.

"I wanted to be the one to tell you I'm leaving."

Mickey's eyes shot up, trying to see some sort of meaning or answer in Ian's face. "Is there a queer rights rally somewhere?" Mickey said it with a laugh, but Ian heard something else.

"No, I just have to get away from here." The away from you was left unsaid, but it hung heavily in the air.

Mickey lit a cigarette, and Ian could see his hands shaking. "Yeah, and go where?"

"No fucking clue. I just know I can't be here. I can't watch this." Ian stood straight up, stepping away from the door. His hands itched to reach out to Mickey, to feel his skin for the last time.

"Are you fucking serious?" The way his voice cracked made Ian want to cry. He wanted to scream, wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't. He knew Mickey would get over him; it's not like there was much for him to get over, to begin with. He was just a warm mouth.

Ian gave him a dry chuckle, with no humor. "Yeah, I'm serious. I've had my bag packed for a while now; I've been saving up some money."

"What about your family?" It was a whisper, and Ian didn't understand why he was grasping at straws. It would be better for him if Ian left.

"They would barely notice. There is nothing left for me here."

Mickey opened his mouth to say something, but it never came out. He closed his mouth with a click turning away from Ian. "Don't."

Ian did laugh this time. Mickey should be glad; it was safer if Ian wasn't here. "Don't what, Mick? Don't leave? Nothing is keeping me here. Everyone would be better off if I didn't exist."

The words didn't come out right; he didn't mean exist, but it was out there now. There was no taking it back now, not that he thought Mickey got the wording's significance. He didn't think Mickey was dumb, but he didn't see things the way Ian did.

"I wouldn't be better off."

Ian shook his head, and tears burned his eyes. Mickey wasn't supposed to put up a fight; it was supposed to be easy. He was going to say goodbye and leave in the middle of the night. Mickey bit at his bottom lip, driving Ian crazy. "I can't stay here. I can't watch you build a family with that Russian whore. I can't chance running into Terry every day. I can't have this horrible scene play out in my head repeatedly, knowing there is nothing I can do." Ian rubbed at his now tear-stained face. "I can't live like this, Mick. It's going to kill me."

Ian could almost hear Mickey yelling, _What about me?!_ , but he knew it would never be voiced. Even though Mickey was the victim of it all, he would never speak those words aloud. The dumbfounded look on Mickey's face was almost enough to make Ian leave. It almost gave him the strength to turn around and walk about the door.

"You think this is hard for you?" Mickey spat.

"I know I'm the bad guy, Mick. I am weak and selfish. I am the reason for all this, and that's why I have to go." Ian was pleading with his arms out wide. He wanted Mickey to understand; he needed for Mickey to understand.

"Gallagher, don't do this. We can still bang."

Ina took a step back with his hand on the doorknob. He shook his head gently as he opened the door. "I can't be just a warm mouth anymore, Mick. I love you. I fucking love you, and that's why I have to go."

Ian didn't let him respond. He sprinted out of the room and out of the house. He forgot he was supposed to talk to Mandy, but he would call her later. He couldn't be in that house anymore. That house is where his life keeps falling apart. His heart was broken, and he had no idea what to do about it. He knew he was leaving, but he still didn't know where to. He figured he would just get on the first bus that is available and go from there.

The house was still empty when he made it back home. He briefly wondered where his family was but shoved it to the back of his mind. He ran up the stairs and pulled his bag out from under the bed. He unzipped it, double-checking that he had everything. He wondered if he should leave his notes here or if he would mail them later. They were goodbye notes, after all. He knew that he wouldn't see any of his loved ones again; he couldn't. He grabbed the gun, running his fingers over the barrel.

He nearly dropped it when the door slammed open. Mickey was standing there, breathing hard. Mickey looked from the gun to Ian with a dawning terror sweeping across his face. Ian dropped the weapon in the bag and zipped it back up.

Mickey grabbed him by the lapel and pulled him closer. "You don't get to fucking do that." He shook Ian with all his might. "You don't get to say things like _I love you_ and fucking leave."

"Mick,"

"No! you fucking listen. I have done everything I can to keep you safe. I married that disgusting whore to keep you safe. You do not get to fucking leave."

Ian shoved him, making him lose his grip on Ian. "You don't get it! It's going to kill me! I can't stay here; I can't pretend I don't love you."

"Then don't." It was merely a whisper, but it shook Ian's core.

"What do you mean don't? Your fucking married. You have a wife and child on the way. We can't be together."

"Things can go back to how they were. We just had to lay low for a while."

Ian scoffed. He really wanted to punch something. "I don't want to be a warm mouth. I don't want to be just a fuck!" He was screaming. Sure he had raised his voice a few times, but he had never shouted at Mickey before. "I am so fucking sorry, but I can't be that anymore. I can't be your punching bag and fuck buddy."

"I didn't mean it when I said that. You were never just a warm mouth."

"It's not like you love me. Just let me go."

The silence was deafening. Ian's jaw dropped after a few moments. The way Mickey was looking everywhere but at him was telling, and Ian didn't know if he could handle it.

"Don't you dare tell me how I feel." Mickey finally said.

Ian couldn't believe what Mickey was alluding to. In all the scenarios Ian played in his head, this did not come up. Mickey would never say he loved him. Ian had given up on that dream long ago, around the time he figured out he would die alone. He would never find someone to love him for him.

"Tell me how you feel then." It wasn't supposed to come out as aggressive as it did, but Ian couldn't take it back now.

"It's not that fucking easy, Gallagher; not everyone can just blurt out how they feel all the time."

"Why are you doing this? Just let me leave."

"Fuck." Mickey pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. After a few moments, he looked at Ian with false bravado. "I love you, you fucking bitch. You can't fucking leave."

Ian covered his mouth as he tried to regain some semblance of calm. "You weren't supposed to say it back." Ian yanked his jacket off; it was sweltering in the small room. "Fuck." Tears filled his eyes again, and he didn't know what to do. "It was supposed to be easy. I was just going to disappear."

"Don't you fucking dare. You don't get to make me love you, then just fucking leave."

Ian picked up his bag and let it drop to the floor. He eyed Mickey as he kicked it back under the bed. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere."

Ian sat gingerly on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to him. Once Mickey sat down, Ian stole his smoke and took a deep drag. Ian knew this wouldn't be the end of their troubles, but he could breathe more comfortably for now.

Life seemed to move into relative comfort as Ian spent most of his time at the Milkovich home. His family barely noticed that he spent almost every night in Mickey's bed. Svetlana even okayed it and was sleeping in Terry's room. Ian and Mickey had promised to help with the baby and had even started building a nursery.

When Yevgeny was born, Ian and Mickey both paced the waiting room. The birth was easy, and Yev came out beautiful. Ian knew he would never get the family he imagined with Mickey, but this was almost the same. They fell into a comfortable routine. They all took shifts watching baby Yev while the others were at work. Mickey and Lana were surprised by how taken Ian was with the cute blonde boy.

Ian had baby Yev on his hip as he munched on toast. Mickey was getting ready for work, and Lana was sleeping in. Since Yev was born, she got a job at a diner and had been working nights. Ian could no longer see her as a rapist. He knew better; he knew the real culprit was Terry. Lana didn't have a choice; she didn't want to die either. When Mickey stepped into the kitchen, Ian smiled.

"Do you see daddy? Doesn't he look handsome in his work clothes?"

Mickey hated the baby talk, but he still gave Ian a small smile. "Yeah, yeah, I can't fucking breathe in this tie."

Ian grabbed the tie pulling him down for a kiss. "I think it's hot."

Mickey laughed, kissing both Ian and Yev on the head as he left for work. After a couple of hours of Ian and Yev playtime, they took a nap on the couch. Ian startled when he felt Yev being pulled from his arms.

"Calm now; it's me," Lana said as she hoisted Yev up.

"How was work?" Ian asked as he slipped into the kitchen to make lunch.

Lana sat down in the chair, cradling Yev to her chest, popping out a boob to feed him. "Tips were shit. I am just glad we do not have to buy formula yet."

Ian gave her a bright smile. "Me too, dippers are enough for now." Ian slid a pate to her with a sandwich.

"You work this evening?" She asked, taking a small nibble of her sandwich.

"I go in at two. Mick should be home around 1."

She nodded, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. After they were all done eating, she hoisted Yev up on her shoulder to burp him.

"Terry contacted me. He is coming home soon." Ian visibly paled. "Maybe we can move? Me, Yev, you and husband."

"I don't know, Lana. We can talk to Mick about it after I get off work. That may be our only option."

"Terry is a bad man."

Ian had to agree with her. He softly nodded and excused himself. He claimed to be getting ready for work, but he sat in silence at the foot of the bed. Terry coming home was going to ruin things. He could feel it. Having Terry around never ended well for Ian or Mickey. He dressed slowly and headed out to work. As he walked to work, he thought of how he would have to convince Mickey to leave.

What he didn't expect was to walk face-first into the man he was dreading seeing again.

"Well, if it isn't that fag that's been living in my house?"

Terry spat as he reached for his gun. Ian couldn't believe Terry was doing this in broad daylight. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and wanted to laugh. He was going to die on the sidewalk on the way to work, and all he could think of was he couldn't warn Mickey.

"Well, if it isn't Terry Milkovich, the man who rapes his children?"

Terry pressed the gun to Ian's heart and snarled. "Watch your fucking tone, boy. I will fucking kill you."

"In broad daylight? You'll be in prison again before I'm in the icebox."

Ian shoved closer, changing the barrel's angle, which is probably why he was shot in the shoulder, not the heart. He was still bleeding out, but he had time to call Mickey; he just hoped someone else would call 911. He struggled to get his phone out of his pocket. He laughed when he was it was Mick who was calling him.

"Hey, baby," Ian answered. He had never called Mickey baby before but now was his only chance.

"Ian, dad's out." Mickey barked, making Ian laugh.

"I know." Breathing was starting to get hard, and it made his words come out as gasps. "Listen to me, okay? My bag in the bottom of the closet make sure you get it. I have some notes for you and my family and some money for Yev."

"What are you saying, Ian?" Ian smiled as he heard the sirens in the distance. Apparently, so did Mickey. "Fuck." He yelled.

"Mick, I love you."

"I fucking love you too, but you better not die, man."

Ian chuckled but was wet and clogged from the blood escaping his lips. "Lana wants to run away. You should do it."

"Ian, please don't do this."

"I'm so sorry." Ian's vision was fading, and it felt like his lungs were crushed. "I love you."

Ian didn't hear if Mickey replied; his world faded away.

Mickey couldn't breathe. Iggy had run in the house screaming that Dad had gotten out, and the breath escaped his lungs, and he couldn't replace it. His numb fingers tore at his pocket, trying to grab his phone. Iggy was panicked and yelling at Lana to start packing shit up. He could feel the activity flurry around him as he tried to call Ian. He felt like he had a ball of lead in his stomach when it went to voicemail. He ripped his tie off and tried again; he paced and lit a cigarette as it rang and rang. He was out the door when it went to voicemail the second time; he was going to meet Ian at work.

His lungs burned, and his legs ached as he sprinted as fast as he could. He slowed to a walk when Ian finally answered.

"Hey, baby," Mickey could hear something was wrong. Ian was gasping for breath, and it made him start running again. Mickey had the feeling that he was too late.

"Ian, dad's out." When Ian laughed, Mickey knew Terry had already seen him. Mickey's world was crumbling around him.

"I know, listen to me, okay? My bag in the bottom of the closet make sure you get it. I have some notes for you and my family and some money for Yev." Mickey hated the way it sounded like he was drowning like he was gurgling water.

"What are you saying, Ian?" Mickey heard the faint trill of sirens, and he started sprinting again. "Fuck."

"Mick, I love you." Mickey didn't want to hear it. He didn't want his suspicions confirmed.

"I fucking love you too, but you better not die, man." Mickey was imploding; his world was on fire, and no one could tame the flames.

"Lana wants to run away. You should do it." Of course, Mickey knew that; she was packing when he left.

"Ian, please don't do this." Mickey knew he would only go with Ian.

"I'm so sorry. I love you." Mickey could barely hear him, but it was like a stake to his heart.

He could hear the sirens just up ahead. He slid to a stop as he rounded the corner. Ian was flat on his back in a pool of blood, and the EMT's were closing in. He left the tears burn his face, and he could hear screaming. He couldn't feel the rocks ripping into his knees, and he hardly noticed that his legs had given out.

Someone grabbed his arm, and Mickey yanked away. His throat was on fire, and he wished whoever was screaming would stop. It was echoing in his mind as he watched the EMT's start giving Ian CPR. The offending hand grabbed him again and yanked him to his feet. Iggy's face blocked his view of Ian, but Mickey couldn't hear what he was saying. He shoved Iggy, trying to get closer to his redhead. He saw his sister talking to one of the EMT's, and he was instantly glad she was there. She was Ian's best friend; she would take care of them. What he didn't expect was for Iggy to punch him.

"Stop fucking screaming." Mickey would have scoffed if he could pull his eyes from the EMT's putting Ian in the ambulance, but he was glad the screaming stopped. "Mandy is figuring out where they're taking him. We need to get to the car to get down there."

"His family." Mickey's throat felt raw, and his voice was hoarse. "Someone needs to call his family."

"We will handle it, but I need you to calm down." Iggy patted his back as he led him to the car he and Mandy drove.

He sat in the front seat and watched the Ambulance drive away. Mandy jogged to the car and jumped into the backseat. Mickey heard her tell Iggy where to go, but he couldn't process it. He was glad that Iggy seemed to understand and took off.

"Dad shot him." Mickey was looking out the window, watching the building pass by. He could still see the lights to the ambulance up ahead, and it made him nauseous.

Mickey didn't see it, but Iggy looked at him as he scrubbed a hand down his face. "We know, man. We're going to deal with it. Colin and Jamie are already out looking for Terry."

Mickey finally looked at Iggy. "I want him dead. No more prison, I want him rotting in a fucking ditch."

"We're dealing with it." Iggy pulled into a parking spot and they all got out.

Mandy was on the phone talking to Lip, giving the information she knows. When they burst into the Emergency Room, it was too quiet. Mickey wanted to scream; he wanted to see his Gallagher. Iggy rushed up to the counter, talking to the receptionist there. Mandy grabbed his arm and led him to a chair. When he didn't sit down, she shoved him.

"Sit the fuck down."

Mickey's legs seemingly gave out as he fell into the chair. He could feel the fire licking at his flesh, threatening to burn it away. He couldn't wrap his mind around it all. Terry Milkovich shot Ian. Mickey would make sure he was dead by tomorrow, but first, he needed to make sure Ian was alive.

Mickey wasn't sure how long he sat there or when the Gallagher clan showed up. Usually, they would show up and be the loudest thing in the room, but right now, all Mickey could hear was his own ragged breathing. He still couldn't seem to catch his breath or slow his breathing. When Lana showed up, Mickey couldn't avoid speaking to her.

"Where is he? Where is Ian?" She was panicked, which surprised Mickey.

"They haven't told us," Mickey told her, looking from her panicked face to Yev's red one; he must have been crying.

"What happened?" She demanded, and Yev started crying again. "Why can't we see him?"

Mandy cut in, grabbing her arm leading her to a chair. "Terry shot him."

"No." She said like she wouldn't allow it. "No, what about Mickey? What about the baby? Ian has family; he will be fine."

Lip scoffed and gave her a dirty look. "That is not his family."

"And you are?" She spat. She handed Yev to Iggy, turning her full attention to Lip. "Where have you been? If you're family, where have you been? Husband found him with a gun in his hand and a bag packed months ago. Carrot Top walked around like the dead for weeks after he moved in with us. Where were you?"

"Fuck you, your just some whore Mickey knocked up. He couldn't keep it in his pants, and Ian was left to deal with the fallout." Lip stood towering over her.

Lana stood, getting in his face with her hands on her hips. "No, Terry put a gun to Mickey's head and forced him. Terry raped us. Ian watched and broke; he was just a child. Where were you?"

Lip opened his mouth to spew more vile words, but Debbie put her hand on his arm. "Stop it, Lip."

Lip took his seat but kept giving Mickey dirty looks. "The fuck are you looking at?"

"This is your fault." Lip spat.

"Lip!" Fiona yelled. "Shut up! Would you blame Ian if it was Frank? We have no control over our parents. You know this."

They lapsed into silence. Mickey knew it wasn't his fault; sure, he felt guilty, but Terry did this. Mickey would make sure Terry could never do anything like this again. Terry Milkovich was a dead man walking. The doctor walked out, calling Gallagher making Mickey jump up.

"That's us," Fiona said from beside him.

The doctor sighed and adjusted the file in her hand. "Mr. Gallagher is fortunate to be alive. The bullet entered at an angle and missed his heart. It did puncture a lung and exit through a rib. He has left surgery and is now in recovery."

"When can we see him?" Lana asked from behind him.

"Mr. Gallagher is still in critical condition and will not wake for a few hours. A nurse will come get you the moment you can come back."

Mickey sat there for what felt like hours before the nurse called them back. There was a lot of activity fluttering around him, but he didn't pay any attention to it. He sat next to Ian and gripped his hand. He hated how cold it was. Ian was pale, and Mickey couldn't see his chest rise and fall. He looked dead. Mickey closed his eyes and tried to clear the image from his mind, but he couldn't make it disappear.

The nurse came in to take them away, but Mickey wouldn't move. He looked up, noticing the only person in the room was Lip, who scowled at him.

Mickey sighed and shook his head. "I'm not leaving until he is awake." He shifted his gaze to the nurse, pleading with his eyes to not make a big deal about it.

"You're not family," Lip whispered, but it was still spat out like old gum.

"We take care of each other. We are family."

"You're just the shitty boyfriend, who's dad put him here."

Lip waited a few moments for a response, but Mickey didn't give it to him. Lip left with a huff, and the nurse brought a blanket.

"Let me know if you need anything, sweetheart."

She was nice, but Mickey still couldn't respond. Ian's hair was limp and dull. He couldn't move until he saw those beautiful green eyes open. He couldn't shift from his spot until he knew Ian was alive. Nothing would ever be right again. He noticed the sun was rising behind him, but he did not doze the night before. The nurse came in multiple times during the night, but she never spoke. Mickey thought she probably knew it wasn't worth it. He couldn't respond until Ian was alive and awake.

He was surprised that Lana was the first visitor of the morning. He pushed Ian's bangs back from his forehead and pressed a kiss to the clammy skin. She looked at Mickey, who was still hunched over the bed with Ian's hand clasped tightly in his.

"I am sorry."

Mickey shifted his gaze up to her. It made no sense for her to be sorry; Terry did this, not her. He gave her a dead stare because he couldn't seem to open his mouth.

"I should have known when Terry called. He told me a few days, but I should have known better. I should have stopped Ian from going to work."

Mickey shook his head; she was wrong. It wasn't her fault. It was Terry's, and if his brothers let him live through the night, Mickey would end it soon. He needed to make sure Ian was okay first. He shifted closer to the bed, watching the sun warm Ian's face.

"I will bring Yev after he wakes. Ian would like to see him."

Mickey nodded; he knew she was right. Ian loved the little boy, and usually, that would bring a smile to Mickey's face. He heard Lana pull up a chair and take a seat. They both sat there waiting on Ian to open his eyes. Mickey was starting to think it would never happen. He didn't know how long they sat there, but he heard Lip from the doorway after a while.

"Why the fuck are you still here? You're not fucking family." Mickey felt tears burn his eyes. He was family, and so was Lana. They had made their own little family.

"Shut your dirty mouth; you do not understand our family," Lana argued back.

"Our family?" Lip mocked. Mickey looked up, hoping they would take the fight out into the hall. "A washed-up whore, a ghetto thug wannabe, and child that could be anyone's? You are not Ian's family." He was shouting, making Mickey cringe. "I should call fucking security!"

"Shut the fuck up, Lip." It was a small whisper, but it made Mickey smile. Ian was awake.

"Ian?" Mickey asked in awe. His voice was still raw and hoarse.

"You look like shit, Mick." His eyes were open, and he smiled at Mickey. He looked to Lana with confusion written on his face. "Who has Yevvy?"

"Your sister," Lana said with a laugh.

Ian nodded, and a grimace formed on his face. Mickey motioned towards Lip. "Get the nurse."

Instead of leaving, he spat." Fuck you." And crossed his arms over his chest.

"Your brother is in pain." Lana chided as she pushed past him into the hallway.

Lip seemed to realize what he had just done and rubbed the back of his head. "You okay, man?" He asked Ian.

"Not really. I ran right into the one person I didn't want to see, and he shot me." Ian deadpanned.

"We're taking care of it," Mickey said as he pressed a kiss to Ian's forehead.

Ian pulled back, looking at him. "Don't do anything that will get you arrested."

Mickey let out a small chuckle. "Don't worry about me. I will make sure it's not a problem."

The nurse bustled in and checked everything. She said she was calling the doctor to come in and talk to him about the next steps. Mickey tuned it all out as he watched Ian go lax under the drugs. He was glad when Lana came back with coffee; he hadn't slept in at least 50 hours, and he didn't plan on it anytime soon. When the doctor was gone, Lip followed him out, and Lana left to check on Yev.

Mickey kissed him hard and supped his face. "I love you."

Ian laughed and gripped the back of his head, not letting him pull away. "I love you too. Now, get out of here. Go do whatever you're going to do with Terry, take a shower, and kiss Yev for me."

Mickey stood, looking to the door. "If he's not dead yet, he will be soon." Ian nodded in understanding. "I'll be back this evening."

"Be careful," Ian said as Mickey left.

Mickey went home and gathered Ian's bag from the bottom of the closet. He would be careful, but there was still a chance something could go wrong. The clothes were no longer in the bag, which made Mickey smile. That meant Ian didn't plan on leaving anytime soon. The gun, his notes, and a few new things were in the bag. Mickey grabbed the gun and tucked it into his waistband. He didn't think he was going to shoot Terry, but he might as well bring it. He pulled out the envelope with his name on it and fingered the edges. He gently opened it and pulled out the wrinkled papers. Ian had told him he wrote it when he was drunk, but Mickey had to laugh at the messy script scrawled along the page.

_Dear Mick,_

_I'm glad you're reading this. No, wait, no, I'm not. If you're reading this, I am saying bye, and that's scary as fuck. I don't want to say goodbye. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I wasn't supposed to be so damn weak. I think you'd call me a pussy probably, but I dreamed of better things. I dreamed of a life and a family—just you and me._

_I went and fell in love with you. God, I am so fucking stupid. Even if you loved me back, it would never fucking work. You can't live that life with me. You can't be open, and I get that. Your life would be the price for my comfort, and I can't do that to you._

_It all started at the beginning, but you know that. Where else would it start? You were so fucking beautiful and scary when you almost beat me with the crowbar. I went home and couldn't stop thinking about it, about you. I was fucking hooked then. You've ruined me, Mikhailo Milkovich._

_But I ruined it. I knew better, but spending the night with you? I'd fucking dreamed about it. Having you all to myself. But then it all went to shit._

_I couldn't protect myself. I couldn't_ save _you. I let Terry hurt you, and it was all my fault. I ruined you. I destroyed your life, and I can't do anything about it. I wish I could go back in time. I'd fucking kill him. Or I'd turn you down. I don't fucking know, but I wouldn't let you get hurt like that again. I see it every time I close my eyes, and I can't fucking deal with it. I am such a shit person. I wish you had let him beat me to death. It would have made things easier. If I had died that day, you wouldn't have to marry that woman. So, that's my fault too. She is sleeping you your bed and making a family with you, and it's my fucking fault. Just like everything else. I've ruined it._

_I haven't slept in a few days. I am not okay, and I have no one to talk to. I've ruined everything. I shouldn't be here, so I'm done. I have to leave. I don't know where I'll go or what I'll do, but it won't be here. I bought this gun just in case. In case I'm weak and can't leave. In case I can't live anymore._

_But you shouldn't worry, be free. Live your life._

_I will love you always ass hole,_

_Ian Clayton Gallagher_

The next bit was neater and in a different pen color. Mickey thought Ian added it later.

_You saved me, again. I don't know why, but you did. We will make this work. We have to._

Mickey sat there with the note in his hand. Ian had always said it was a goodbye, but it read more like a suicide note. That terrified Mickey. He knew it was a dark time, but he had hoped it didn't get that far. He hated the pain that Ian had felt and the guilt. Mickey knew if they had just talked about it, things would have been better. He heard the front door slam open, so he put the note back in place and shoved the bag back in the closet.

Iggy was in the living room looking for something. "Find Terry?" Mickey asked him.

"Yeah, we've been waiting for you."

Mickey nodded in understanding. He looked at the little end table and saw a pair of brass knuckles. He grabbed them and shoved them into his pocket. "Ian woke up."

"Svet told me." He paused for a moment. "You want to come now? Colin has him secured."

The room was dank and bare. Terry was tied to a chair in the center of the otherwise empty room. Mickey pulled out the brass and slipped them on. He knew what he was going to do now. He was going to beat that cunt to death.

"That fag dead?" Terry called out.

Iggy and Colin looked to Mickey for a reaction, but nothing would change his mind. No matter what bullshit Terry spewed, Mickey was going to beat him to death. "Nope, he's awake and laughing. Told me to kill you as I left." He motioned to Colin and Iggy. "Hold him steady."

Iggy and Colin stood on either side of the chair, holding it in place. Terry smiled at Mickey. "Oh, do you think you're the big strong man? You're just a pole smoking pussy."

Mickey didn't respond; he punched Terry as hard as he could. He didn't give Terry a chance to react and hit him six more times. Blood had splattered, covering Mickey's face and neck. He could feel the blood making the metal on his hands shift and slip. He paused to fix it.

"Is that all you got?" Terry was choking on his own blood. His words were slurred from the repeated blows and missing teeth.

Mickey looked deranged when he smiled. The blood was contrasted with his bright blue eyes making them stand out. "I'm drawing it out. I want to savor it."

When the blows started again, Mickey had a smile on his face. Terry wouldn't last much longer. After the third hit, Terry began to scream. Mickey could see the tears streaming down his face, and it filled him with glee. He stopped taking a step back, looking at his work. Terry was unrecognizable. His face looked like bloody meat, and Mickey thought it was apt payback. This man nearly took Ian away. He had driven him to suicide then shot him in cold blood. Nothing was going to make Mickey spare his life, but his arms were tired, and his knuckles hurt. He slipped the brass off his fingers and let them drop to the floor with a clang. Terry let out a sob of relief.

Mickey grabbed the gun from his waistband. He showed it to Terry, who may or may not have been able to see it. "This is Ian's gun. He bought it to kill himself with, and I think it's only fair I kill you with it."

He leveled the gun between what was probably Terry's eyes. He glanced at Colin and Iggy, expecting to see disgust or hatred, but they were focused on making sure Terry didn't move. After a few moments, he pulled the trigger, and brain matter went everywhere. 

Mickey stepped back and tucked the gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Colin and Iggy both backed away from the body, also covered in blood. Colin looked at Mickey with sad eyes. "We'll get rid of him. Go home and get cleaned up."

Mickey left without saying anything. He hoped he wouldn't lose his brothers over this, but it seemed like they were on his side. He walked up the steps to the back door. He stripped naked in the kitchen and put all his bloody clothes in a bag. He stepped into the bathroom and took a long shower. He scrubbed every inch of his skin until it was raw. He made sure there was no evidence left on his skin.

Once he was dressed, he grabbed the bag of bloody clothes and shoes. He went out back and dropped it into a small burn pit they had. He grabbed the gas can from under the steps and poured more on it than he needed. He lit it and watched it all burn to ash. He knew he should take a nap, but he wanted to get back down to the hospital. He needed Ian to know it was safe.

He could hear the yelling from down the hallway, and Mickey shook his head. He really didn't have the patience to deal with Phillip. He stepped into the room to see Lana and Lip in each other's faces again, but that didn't matter because Ian gave him a bright smile as he rubbed Yev's belly between his legs.

He looked back to Lana and Lip. "You need to take that shit in the hallway."

Lip tried to push past Lana to get to Mickey. "You need to fucking leave. You, that whore, and her kid shouldn't be here."

"Fuck off, Lip!" Ian yelled from his spot on the bed. "Go home and get your shit together before you come back."

Mickey walked around the bed and kissed Ian. "It's done." He whispered.

Ian smiled at him. "Good."

Mickey knew he wouldn't ask any questions. It was best if he didn't know. Mickey didn't plan on getting caught, but it was better if Ian didn't know the details. Mickey ran his hand through Yev's fin hair and gave Ian a small smile.

"When did they say you could come home?"

Ian pouted, and Mickey had to fight another smile spreading across his face. "They're saying some shit about physical therapy and staying here another week. We can't afford that shit. I'm going to talk to them about leaving tomorrow."

Mickey frowned. "We can get the money. I want you home, but you need to be healthy."

"I can't stay here a week, man. Maybe I can talk to them about doing check-ups or something, but I want to come home. I want to sleep in our bed."

"We'll see what the doctor says."

Ian ended up staying for two more days. He threw a bitch fit the entire time. Mickey snapped at him a few times for being a damn brat, but mostly he was happy Ian was back to his usual self. The next few weeks were filled with physical therapy and baby playtime. Since Ian couldn't work like he usually did, Lana picked up more shifts at the diner, and Mickey found work as a bouncer at a club.

Ian was there for all the significant firsts, and Lana had gotten jealous a few times. The day Yev started crawling was one of the best days in his life. He quickly pulled out his phone and started recording. He cheered Yev on as he shuffled along. He sent the video to everyone he knew. When Lana came home, she was cursing in Russian.

"You need to go back to work." She spat, but Ian only smiled.

He got on all fours and helped Yev to his knees. "Come on, big man, let's go see Mamma."

When Yev made his way to Lana's arms, she cheered, instantly happier. Yev and Ian were both crawling around the living room while Lana applauded, and that was the scene Mickey came home to.

"What's going on in here?"

Ian smiled and directed Yev to Mickey. "Let's go see Daddy. Come on, buddy, you can do it."

It took some nudging, but Yev crawled across the floor to Mickey, who picked him up, congratulating him. "That's our big boy."

Ian had dropped out of school when he got home from the hospital. He thought it would be easier to help raise Yev and get a new job once he was better. He hadn't spoken to Lip in months, but Fiona and Debbie came over all the time. Deb started babysitting when Ian went back to work. He had gotten a job at a bookstore. The pay was better than at the Kash' n' Grab, also the hours worked better with Lana and Mickey's jobs. Ian got home early enough to make dinner every night, and they could eat together as a family.

Ian had been making dinner, and Yev was in his playpen in the living room. When Ian had left him, Yev was fast asleep, but he woke up alone and started to cry. Ian had called out from the kitchen, hoping to calm the young boy but dropped the spoon in the pot when he screamed back Dada.

"What was that big guy?" Ian had asked, wondering if Yev would repeat it.

"Dada, dada." Yev held his hands up wanted to be lifted.

"I'm not Dad, bud." It made Ian sad and happy at the same time. Their sweet boy was growing, but he never thought about what Yev would call him. Mickey was dad, and Lana was mom, but what was Ian.

"Dada." Yev's face was red in frustration, so Ian picked him up.

Ian hoped that once Mickey came home, it wouldn't matter. Yev would call him Dada, and Ian would try to find something else for Ian to call him later. He just hoped Mickey wouldn't be too upset with Yev calling him that.

The more he thought about it, the sadder he got. He held Yev tightly to his chest as he finished making dinner. He couldn't think of something for Yev to call him. He didn't want to be uncle, and he thought it might work if he just called him Ian, but that left him cold.

When Lana came home, he passed Yev to her and told her the dinner was on the stove. He booked it to his and Mickey's room. He stripped down and crawled into bed. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and stared at the wall. He could hear Lana and Yev in the living room, and he hoped Yev didn't call out for him. He heard the front door slam, and he closed his eyes. Mickey was home, and he couldn't look at him. Today had reminded him that he was an intruder in the family. He had wormed his way into their lives, but he wasn't meant to be here.

Mickey frowned when he stepped through the door. Lana and Yev were sitting at the table eating dinner, but Ian was nowhere to be found.

"Something is wrong with Ian," Lana said as he kicked off his shoes.

"What do you mean?" Mickey looked around, seeing that he was probably in their room.

"Little one said his first words today."

Mickey ran his hand through his hair. "Good job, little man. What did you say?"

Yev looked around and called out again. "Dada." It took Mickey a moment to realize that he was asking for Ian.

"Oh," Mickey said, looking at Lana.

"He's been in the room for a few hours. Yev has been calling for him."

Mickey looked at their closed door. Mickey didn't know what the problem was, but he knew Ian was hurting. He loved their dinners together and would only miss them if something was wrong. He sighed and made his way over to the room. He slipped into the room and saw Ian lying in bed, but Ian didn't react as Mickey crawled into bed behind him.

"Yev's calling for you," Mickey whispered as he wrapped his arms around Ian, who curled in on himself.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

"What are you sorry for mumbles?" Ian shook his head, and Mickey could tell he was fighting back the tears. "Tell me what's going on, red."

After a few moments of silence, Ian huffed and rolled over, looking at Mickey. "It's fucking stupid."

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "Can't be that stupid if you're hiding in here."

"He called me Dada."

"Yeah, heard him calling for you." Mickey shrugged like it didn't matter.

"I'm not, dad. That's not me. I don't know who I am, but it's not Dada."

Mickey could see that Ian was struggling, but he didn't get it. "So, who do you want to be?"

The dead stare that Ian gave him would have frozen him if he didn't know better. Ian bit his lip, looking away from Mickey. "It doesn't matter. I don't belong here."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"You are Dad, and Lana is Mom, but what does that make me? I am just the guy that hangs around fucking up the family."

"Don't say stupid shit like that. You have helped raise that boy. You are his dad just as much as I am." Mickey said, cupping Ian's cheek.

Ian let out the sob he had been holding at the soft touch. "I'm scared." He whispered.

"I know, me too." Mickey wouldn't have ever admitted it if Ian didn't need to hear it.

They laid in bed for the rest of the night, knowing Lana would get them if she needed them.

On Yev's first birthday, their little family had a small party. They invited over the Gallagher's, Kev, and Vee. It was a small gathering, but Ian loved it. Yev had said his first a few weeks before, and he said it all the time now, followed by Mama and No. He loved to scream no at the top of his lungs.

The party was sweet, and Ian was worn out by the end of the day. Yev made a massive mess in the cake that he had made. The exhaustion had started seeping in when Fiona brought up Lip. Ian hadn't talked to him since the day in the hospital that Ian told him to leave.

"Lip is having a hard time," Fiona said as she drank a beer, and Ian bounced Yev on his hip.

"Yeah?" Ian didn't think she understood that Ian loved his brother, but he was not one of his priorities. He was a father of a one-year-old boy. He couldn't focus on a man who won't speak to him because he fell in love with someone and built a family.

"I know you're mad at him, but I think you should call him."

"I'm not mad, Fi." Yev started pulling his long hair. Ian hadn't cut it in almost two years, but as he tried to force Yev to let go, he regretted it. "I just don't have the time to chase him down. I have a child who I can barely keep up with and keeps pulling my hair. I am studying for my GED and preparing to take classes at Malcolm X. If he doesn't want to speak to me, it's not my problem."

"You were the one who told him to leave."

Ian huffed in frustration. "I told him to get his shit together and come back. He couldn't accept Mick, Lana, and Yev as my family. What was I supposed to do?"

She emptied her beer. "I don't know, but he could use you now."

"Yeah, and I could have used my brother while my world was falling apart, but he thought it was more important to throw out the people I love."

Ian hoisted Yev up higher and walked away from Fiona. He couldn't chase down Lip and force him to talk. He had his own problems. Mickey was trying to find a legit job, and Lana was tired of working at the diner. Lana came home last week and told them she quit. She was looking for a new job, but it put a lot of pressure on Mickey. He had stopped looking for a legal job and ran a few jobs. Ian was terrified that he would get arrested, so he started pulling a few scams to make things easier for Mick. He had pulled him aside last night and handed him 800 dollars, and begged him to get a real job.

Mickey didn't ask him how he got the money, and Ian was glad. He didn't want to tell him he was doing things he had learned from Frank as a child. He couldn't tell Mickey that he had got some party favors from Frank and threw a party at a motel. He didn't want to tell him that he waited until they all passed out, and he had robbed them blind, or that he had to give 400 dollars to Frank for the drugs. The moral of the story was that Ian didn't have time to deal with Lip.

He should have expected Lip to make a surprise appearance a few weeks later. He was trashed, and he had come in acting aggressive. Ian called Lana to come home and get Yev. He didn't want to bother Mickey and have him and Lip get into a fight. Lana had come through the back door, shaking her head in anger. After she took Yev and left, Ian led Lip to the couch, promptly passing out. Ian took a seat at the table with his EMT books spread out around him.

After an hour or so, Lip staggered to his feet with a moan. Ian closed his book and watched him look around like a confused child. Lip startled when he saw Ian sitting at the kitchen table watching him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lip asked, making Ian frown.

"Well, it is my house." Ian stood slowly.

"Why am I here?" Lip gestured around the room. Ian couldn't stand the look of disgust on his face.

"Wish I knew, you showed up here about two hours ago frightening my kid."

Lip scoffed as he looked around, hoping to see the kid. "You mean Mick's shitty love child."

Ian took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. His blood was boiling in rage, but he had been working on his patience for Yev. "You need to leave."

Lip shook his head. "Always kicking me out, I can't even see my own brother." He was still slurring drunk.

"You sound like Frank." Ian rounded the table, getting closer to Lip. "What is wrong with you, man? Why are you throwing your life away like this?"

“I'm not fucking Frank!" Lip yelled. Ian noticed that his fists were balled up in a rage, and he hoped this didn't end in a fight. "You're just like fucking Monica. You run away when things get tough!"

Ian felt his control snap. "Fuck you! You know fucking nothing!" Ian screamed, face red in anger.

"You're just a fucked-up kid that latched on to his first boyfriend. Come home where you're supposed to be!"

"Mick has done more for me than you ever did!" Ian got into his personal face, and their faces were inches apart. "Where were you when Frank hit me? Where were you when Monica took me to that gay club and left me with those old men? Where were you when Terry beat Mickey and me for being gay? You are never fucking there!"

Ian should have seen the blow coming, mainly because Lip fought just like Frank. Lip reared back and head-butted Ian in the nose. Ian didn't stager back in shock this time; he turned around swinging. He didn't know how many blows he landed or took, but they were rolling on the ground. Each was fighting to get the upper hand. When Lip kicked Ian in the gut and send him sliding into the table, it came crashing down. They both stood quickly, and Ian grabbed one of his textbooks. He swung it hard, hitting lip in the side of the face. They both paused as blood and a tooth went flying. Ian looked at Lip with rage and disgust.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" Ian yelled. His breathing was heavy and ragged. The blows to the chest aggravated the old bullet wound making it hard to breathe.

"Gladly," Lip screamed, leaving the house on a rampage.

Ian slipped to the floor, trying to catch his breath. His face and ribs ached. He looked around, seeing the couch moved and the table broken into pieces. His books and paper were scattered on the floor, and the one he hit Lip with had a coating of blood. He slowly stacked the books on the coffee table and gathered the paper. He put the couch right and picked up his studies from there.

When Mickey walked in, he looked from the broken table to Ian's bruised and bloody face. He stepped further into the house, looking for the other person.

"What the fuck happened to your face?" Mickey grabbed Ian's chin, examining the damage. "Had a disagreement," Ian grunted as he shifted. His ribs still ached, and it still hurt to breathe.

"With who?"

"Lip," Ian said it like it didn't matter. "Will you check my ribs for me? Just make sure nothing is broken."

Ian stood pulling off his shirt. Mickey frowned at bruised skin inches below his bullet wound scar. He trailed his fingers gently over each rib, not feeling anything out of place.

"Not broken." Mickey looked around. "He go home?"

Ian shrugged. "Don't know. I told him to get the fuck out."

"Where's Yev?"

"Called Lana to come get him when Lip showed up."

Mickey nodded in understanding. Ian wouldn't have called him, not if he wanted his brother to live. "I'll be back," Mickey said, cupping Ian's cheek again, making sure he was okay.

"Don't kill him." Mickey would have laughed if he thought Ian wasn't serious.

Mickey stormed out of the house with Ian's ribs on his mind. He was pissed, but he tried to stuff it down. Ian would be agitated if he killed Lip. The walk to the Gallagher house did not cool his blood, so he slammed the door open without a second thought.

"Where the fuck is Phillip?"

Carl pointed to the stairs but didn't say anything. Mickey calmly walked up the steps and slammed the first door open that he saw. He was glad it was Lip's room. When Lip rolled over with a grunt, Mickey grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him out of bed. He held Lip close to his face, making sure Lip was paying attention.

"The last person who hurt Ian like you did today is dead. I beat him until he couldn't be identified and put a fucking round through his skull." Mickey shoved him towards the wall pressing his forearm into Lip's throat. "I don't give a fuck what your problem is. I don't care why you are so fucking butt hurt like a fucking pussy. What I do care about is Ian having to deal with it." Mickey punched him in his already bruised up face. "Ian would be upset if I killed you, but he'd get over it. If you ever lay a fucking hand on him again, they will be finding pieces of you all over the street."

Mickey let him drop to the ground and looked to the door, seeing the rest of the family standing there. He shook his head and pushed past them. He was done with judgmentalGallagher's for one day. By the time he made it back home, Ian was sitting on the couch bouncing Yev in his lap. Lana was in the kitchen putting a pizza in the oven. Mickey knew he would probably never kill Phillip Gallagher, but Lipdidn't know that.

Yev's fifth birthday was rowdier than his first. Ian ran himself ragged, making sure to get everything just right. It was an outer space party, and everyone from daycare was coming. Ian made sure there was the perfect cake and ice cream. He even rented a bounce house that looked like a rocket. Kid's were screaming and running around, but he loved it. Towards the end of the party, Ian saw that Mickey and Lana were tucked away in the corner having a discussion. He could see that Mickey had picked off the label from his beer in nervous energy. He slipped closer, hoping to hear a bit of what they were talking about.

"If you'd just sign it, we wouldn't be talking about it now." Mickey spat.

Lana huffed, looking around for Yev. "The boy will not understand."

"We don't have to tell him. Nothing will change."

"Of course, it will change. You won't be husband anymore."

Mickey downed what was left of his beer, looking away from her. "I never really was, Lana. You know this. I'm not asking you to leave. Nothing has to change, but I want to marry that man, and I can't do it if we are still married."

She sighed and closed her eyes, but Ian didn't stick around to hear her reply. His heart was pounding in his chest. Long ago, he had given up the idea of marrying Mickey. They had built an odd family unit with the three of them, and Ian had grown to love it. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. He didn't know if he could dare to dream again. After years covered in dust, the images came floating back up. Ian was terrified, but he knew he still wanted it. He didn't want to get his hopes up, so he let his dreams drift to the back of his mind and planted a smile on his face. He grabbed a squealing Yev and swung him around. The next thing he knew, all the kids were begging for turns. He swung each kid up and about as they shouted for joy. If he would have looked anywhere but the kids, he would have seen Mickey watching him with a smile. Mickey loved watching Ian play with Yev. After the last one, Yev grabbed Ian's arm tugging him back to the house.

"Da! I have to show you what Gemma and Amy brought me!" Ian swung Yev upon his hip and carried him in. He laughed as Yev protested. "Put me down, Da. I'm a big boy."

Ian put him down and followed him to his bedroom. There was an oversized Outerspace projector. With the lights off and the curtains drawn, Yev clicked the button, turning it on. The room lit up with stars and planets. Yev pulled Ian to the ground, and they laid down, watching the planets orbit his room.

Ian didn't know when they fell asleep, but Yev was cradled to his chest when he woke. The projector was cut off, and they were covered in a blanket. Ian lifted Yev, blanket and all, and tucked him into bed. He checked his phone, noticing it was after nine pm. They had missed dinner, but Yev had worn himself playing all day, so it made sense. Ian stepped out of the room, seeing Mickey and Lanna sitting at the table with papers spread out between them. Ian didn't want to assume, but it was probably divorce papers. He coughed as he shut the door making his presence known. When he made it to the kitchen, the documents were gone, and Ian had to fight the urge to smirk. He would let them keep their secret until they were ready to share.

Ian had utterly forgotten about it. He and Yev were sitting at the table eating breakfast before school. Lana was already at work and Mickey was still asleep, and Ian would drop Yev off on the way to work. He noticed Yev was pushing his eggs around, not eating.

"What's up, bud?"

Yev looked up to Ian with a serious face that Ian thought was out of place. Yev took a shaky breath that made Ian nervous. "What does divorce mean?"

Ian dropped his fork and reached out to grab a little hand. "Where did you hear that word?"

His eyes were wide and had a shine of tears. "Last night, Mom said she and Dad are getting a divorce."

"Oh." Ian gave him a small reassuring smile. "Come here." Ian lifted Yev in his lap and cradled him to his chest. "What else did she say?"

He pressed his tear-stained face to Ian's neck. "That everything would be okay, and nothing will change, but they don't love each other like husbands and wives do."

Ian rubbed circles in the young boy's back. "She is right, Yev. Everything will be okay. Sometimes when people are young, they make decisions they want to take back when they're older. Your mom and dad got married because your dad's dad made them. That doesn't mean they don't love each other, but it's not the same as being married."

"Did they love each other when they got married?"

Ian hesitated; this wasn't his story to tell. "They made things work."

Ian's heart broke when Yev let out a small sob. "Did I do something wrong? Do they hate me now?"

"Oh, bud. Of course not. You brought all of us together. Your Mom and Dad love you so much."

"Then why do things have to change?"

"Nothing is going to change." Ian took a deep breath calming himself. "But it's probably my fault. So, when you get angry about it, be angry at me."

Yev leaned back, grabbing Ian's face. "Da, you didn't do anything wrong either."

Ian laughed and kissed Yev on the forehead. "Everything will be okay." He placed Yev back in his seat and pushed his plate back in front of Yev. "And no matter what, buddy, you always come first, okay?"

Yev nodded and finished his breakfast. Ian dropped him off and headed to work. A few days later, Ian was sitting on the floor with Yev coloring a picture of a frog.

"Da, what's gay?"

"Where did you hear that?" Ian fought back a laugh.

"Gemma said that Dad is divorcing Mom because he's gay." Yev was pouting like he thought it was a bad word, but for some, it was.

"Well, you know how Gemma and Amy have a Mom and a Dad?" Yev nodded. "They love each other like husbands and wives should, but some people have two dads, and they love each other like husbands and wives do."

Yev picked up a purple crayon coloring in the frog's skin. Ian thought maybe he would just let it go, but he looked up with wide eyes after a few moments. "But I have two dads!"

Ian chuckled. "I know, bud, I am one of them."

"So, you're gay?" Yev whispered. Ian thought that he really did think it was a bad word.

"I am." Ian took the Purple crayon from his hand and set it down. "That’s not a bad thing. There is nothing wrong with being gay.”

Yev seemed to ponder that for a moment. “You love dad like husbands and wives.”

“I do, but Yev, it would be husband and husband. No wives involved there.”

“Gemma said you have to have a wife to have babies.”

Ian laughed, lunging at Yev to tickle him. “Why would we need babies? We have a Yev.”

“Da! Stop it!” Yev yelled between giggles.

“Come on, little dude, we need to start dinner.”

A few weeks later, Mickey and Yev were watching cartoons as Ian folded laundry. Yev was curled up in Mickey’s side as he munched on a corn dog. There was a commercial for some jewelry company on, and one of the couples was two men. Yev looked from Ian to Mickey with a frown.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo?” Mickey asked.

“Are you gay too?” Mickey spluttered instead of answering, making Ian laugh. “Da is gay and loves you, so does that mean you’re gay too?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m gay too.”

“Okay.” Yev went back to the program, and Mickey looked at Ian. Ian was still laughing about it when Lana got home, but she didn’t ask any questions.

Almost a month later, Ian was cleaning the bathroom when he saw a ring brochure. Seeing it made Ian pause and look around. He wasn’t supposed to know about it, but he was curious. He flipped it open and found most of the rings were crossed out. Ian felt himself warm at the thought of Mickey searching for the right rings, but it was also funny he was doing it on his own. Ian doubted the silly man knew that they were supposed to do that together after he proposed. He tucked it back where he found it and quickly left. Later that night, when Mickey came home, Ian kissed him hard and laughed at the confusion on his face. 

It was three weeks later when Ian came home to a quiet house. Lana and Mickey were sitting at the table waiting on him. He shrugged off his coat and hung it up. He took a seat at the table and looked between Lana and Mickey.

“You guys kicking me out?” Ian asked with a laugh.

“Fuck off, man,” Mickey said, but he was glad Ian broke the tension. “No, we just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Ian smiled, and Lana pulled out a folder. She flipped it open and pushed it towards Ian. “We are divorced.”

Ian looked between the two and threw back his head, and let out a big laugh. “Fucking finally.” He wiped a tear from his eye and looked at Mickey. “It has taken you almost 6 months to tell me. Do you know how fun it has been answering Yev’s questions alone?”

Mickey bit his bottom lip to fight back a smile. “So, you knew?”

“Of course, I fucking knew. You weren’t quiet when you guys talked about it at the birthday party, and the table is not a secret location or anything.”

Lana rapped her knuckles on the table in frustration. “And Yev has been asking questions, but you didn’t see fit to tell us?”

Ian leaned across the table closer to her. “Maybe you should have told him it wasn’t his fault and you loved him when you broke the news. Or maybe you could have given me a heads up, so I knew what you told him.”

Ian hadn’t realized he was so angry about being kept in the dark. “It wasn’t like that, Ian.” She said, but she didn’t lose the angry look on her face.

“It doesn’t matter. We talked about it, and he seemed to understand.”

“Is that when you thought it was necessary to tell him your gay?” Ian did not like the anger in his voice, and he didn’t want to argue, but he did nothing wrong.

“No, that was when he asked me if you were divorcing Lana because you’re gay. He heard that from Gemma and Amy. Which means Kev and Vee were told before me.” Okay, maybe he wanted to argue a bit.

“It was none of your fucking business.”

Ian stood slowly and backed away from the table. “Obviously not.” He said as he made a big gesture with his arms. He walked out the door without grabbing his coat, and he could hear Mickey calling out to him as he walked down the steps.

Ian hadn’t realized how upset he was about it. He was happy they were finally getting divorced, but he didn’t understand why they kept it from him. Nor did he know how they could get mad at him for not telling them that he knew. They had obviously told Kev and Vee before him, so maybe it was none of his business. He looked up, realizing that his feet had brought him to the bleachers. He slipped under them, taking a seat on the cold concrete.

His phone was vibrating against his thigh, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at it. He knew Mickey was calling, but he didn’t want to talk to him. He thought back to the decision he made over six years ago. He hoped he had made the right decision. He had taken a bullet because of it. Granted, he also got a family that he loved, so right now would not be the time for Mickey to cut it off. Secretly that’s what Ian feared. He was terrified Mickey had realized he wanted nothing to do with Ian and was leaving or making him go. Ian had thought back to when he overheard Mick and Lana talking about the divorce. Mickey had said he wanted to marry him. He didn’t say Ian or Gallagher or even red. He had said him, and that could be anyone.

Ian was shivering, and he knew his lips were probably blue. Mickey had stopped calling about an hour ago, but Ian wasn’t ready to go home. His mind wasn’t right, and he didn’t want to bring that into the house. Over the past few years, he had wondered if he was depressed or something. Every time something happened, he would slip into a mindset that frightened him. Every time he thought about the gun in his bag or how inviting the river's raging rapids were. It was scary, and he should probably tell Mick, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell him that even though he was happy and things were going great, he thought about that gun in the closet.

“You look like a fucking ice cube.” Ian didn’t hear Mickey walk up. Ian flipped him off and struggled to his feet.

“Forgot my jacket.”

Mickey threw him his jacket. “I know, dumbass.”

Ian shrugged it on but didn’t look at Mickey. “I’m not ready to go home.”

“Fine, whatever, let’s get somewhere fucking warm, though. I’m freezing my nuts off.”

Ian laughed and punched him in the arm. “Let’s go get a drink.”

The walk to the bar was silent, but Ian could feel Mickey looking at him. He wanted to ask him what he was looking at, but he could bring his voice up to the surface. His body was still warming up, and he had pins and needles in his limbs. They went to a bar that wasn’t The Alibi and snagged a booth. Ian sipped at his beer as Mickey stared at him. After a few moments, Ian was getting irritated.

“Spit it out, Mick.”

Mickey shook his head and took a big gulp of his beer. “Why do you always run? Every time something goes wrong, you run.”

Ian smirked, thinking about the times that Mickey had ran, specifically when Kash had caught them. “I don’t want you to see it.” The smirk fell from his face as he was pulled back into the dark thoughts he was having earlier.

“See what?”

Ian emptied his beer. “I need another beer.” Ian stood up and walked up to the bar. When he came back with two beers, Mickey lifted an eyebrow expecting him to answer.

Ian drank down half his new beer, looking everywhere but at Mickey. “Ian Gallagher,” Mickey said, grabbing his attention.

Ian ran his hand through his hair and lightly tugged. “I can’t say it.”

Mickey bit his lip, tilting his head to the side. “I’m not fucking stupid, you know. I may not be as smart as Phillip, but I know things. I know that your bag is still packed sitting in the bottom of the closet. I know you pull it out and clean your gun every now and again. I know you’ve added more to your letters, and there is an envelope for Yev. So, whatever it is, just fucking say it.”

Ian finished his second beer and grabbed Mickey’s, taking a large gulp. “I’m scared. I’m afraid that one day I’ll do something I can’t take back.”

Mickey nodded in understanding. “But that doesn’t tell me why you run.”

“I leave to take the option away. I leave that bag and gun in the closet.”

“The divorce is final.” Mickey changed the subject, and Ian was glad.

“That’s good.”

Mickey let out a small chuckle. He knew it was good; he had been excited all day to tell Ian. “Yeah, it’s fucking good.”

Ian tried not to get his hopes up, but it was hard. He knew Mickey was talking about marriage with Lana, and he had been looking at rings. He was glad Mickey didn’t propose in that shitty bar, but Yev’s sixth birthday had come and gone. He pushed it to the back of his mind trying not to feel let down. He thought Mickey probably wanted to put some time between marriages. He didn’t want to do it too quickly.

One day after school, Yev came running in crying, and it made Ian tase bile on his tongue.

“Yev, what’s wrong?” Ian grabbed him, looking for some type of wound or ailment he could see.

“I got in trouble at school today,” Ian remembered his phone ringing earlier, but he didn’t answer while he was in the shower.

“What happened?” Ian hoped it wasn’t too bad.

“I punched that kid Roger. They suspended me.”

Ian almost laughed because he seemed more upset that he got suspended than anything else. “Why did you punch Roger?”

“He said some bad things, Da. I _had_ to punch him.” He threw his book bag down. “He said his dad told him to stay away from me because my parents are whores. He said that Mom is a certified hooker, and you used to sell yourself for drugs.”

Ian officially hated second graders. “Your mother had a hard life. It’s not my story to tell, but I can tell you she is an amazing woman and her father was a bad man.”

Yev’s eyes went wide. “So she was a Hooker? Like in GTA?”

Ian led Yev to the couch to sit down with him. “We will have to call your Mom and tell her to come home to explain everything to you.” Yev nodded, and Ian called Lana. He told her what the kid said, and she said she would be home soon. “She’s on her way.”

“Okay.” Yev looked at his feet, thinking hard. When he looked back up, Ian was worried about what would come out of his mouth. “Roger said you were a whore too.”

Ian sighed; he didn’t plan on ever telling Yev about his childhood, but now it didn’t seem he had a choice. “Yev, you’ve met Frank. What did you think of him?”

“I don’t know. He smells, and people talk bad about him.”

Ian nodded; Yev wasn’t wrong. “What do they say about him?”

“Well,” Yev looked away like he didn’t want to hurt Ian’s feelings. “They say he’s a junkie.”

“He is,” Ian confirmed. “sometimes, when junkies need another fix and don’t have money, they do bad things. Sometimes, they sell stuff to their dealers to get drugs, and if the junkie is a really bad person, they sell people.”

“How do you sell people?” Yev looked confused. “Did Frank sell you?”

Ian looked at him with sad eyes, and Yev started to cry again. “Don’t cry, buddy. It was only every now and again.”

“But if he sold you, how are you still here? Why didn’t they take you?” Yev studied Ian’s face. He noticed that Ian looked uncomfortable, like when he asked about sex. His eyes went wide. “Is it a sex thing? Did he make you have sex for drugs?”

“Frank is a bad man, Yev. That is why your Dad and I make sure you are never around him. He can never use you like that.”

“But what about you, Da?”

Yev stood up, and Ian was scared he was going to run. “It was a long time ago, Yev.”

“How could you let him do that?” Yev yelled. Lana stepped through the door, hearing Yev screaming.

“Yev, calm down, kiddo.” Ian stood, reaching out for him. When Yev dodged his touch, Ian yanked back like he had been burned.

“No!” Yev screamed. “How could you do that? It’s gross! You had sex for drugs; that makes you a whore just like Roger said.”

He looked to Lana, who was staring in confusion. “I’ll let you two talk.” Ian grabbed his jacket and left.

When Mickey came home, Yev was lying in Lana’s lap crying. He looked around, expecting to see Ian. He pulled off his jacket and kneeled down in front of the crying child. He looked up to Lana, who’s eyes were red from crying as well.

“What’s going on?” Mickey asked as he ran his hand through Yev’s blonde hair.

“I’m so sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, now, tell me what happened. I doubt you did anything wrong.” Mickey said.

Yev sat up, looking up to Lana, who nodded to him. “I hurt Daddy. I didn’t meat to, I promise. He left because he doesn’t think I love him anymore.”

Lana cut in, rubbing his back. “No, Yev, he texted me telling me he was at the Gallagher’s.”

“Lana, what’s going on?”

“Roger at school told Yev I was a hooker. Ian called me so that I could come home and talk to him about it. Apparently, this kid said that Ian was a whore because he sold himself for drugs.”

Mickey looked at Lana in confusion; he clearly didn’t know what had happened. Yev sobbed as he pulled on his jacket sleeve. “Daddy told me how Frank was a very bad man, and sometimes bad men sell people for drugs.” Yev whipped his nose with his sleeve, trying to stop the snot and tears. “I told him it was his fault because he didn’t stop him. I told him he didn’t have to have sex so Frank could get high.”

“Oh,” Mickey said dumbly.

“And I made it worse because Daddy wanted a hug, and I screamed at him. I called him gross.”

“Yev.” Mickey grabbed his chin softly. “You can apologize to him when he gets home, but you understand that it’s not his fault, right? He was a kid, probably younger than you.”

When a fresh sob ripped from his throat, Mickey looked in confusion. Lana shook her head. “Ian didn’t tell him how old he was.”

Yev was angry. He stood up, ready to flee to his room. “So, Daddy was sold for drugs, Momma was sold because her dad hated her. What about you, Dad? Are all my parents hurt by their dads?”

When Mickey didn’t answer, Yev stomped his foot. “Yev, Terry, my father didn’t like that I was gay. He hurt Ian and me really bad when he found out. After he beat us, he called a hooker to try and turn me straight.”

“How do you turn someone straight?”

“You don’t,” Mickey said. “No matter how much you beat someone or make them have sex with hookers, you can’t make them straight.”

“He made you have sex with a hooker?” Yev asked, astonished. Mickey cut his eyes to Lana, making Yev gasp. “He made you have sex with Mom?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but everything will be okay.” Lana tried to calm him.

A fresh wave of tears started. “Then you had me. You didn’t want me.”

“Don’t say that kiddo,” Mickey said.

Yev backed away. “I want my Daddy.” Lana reached for him, and he jerked away like he did earlier with Ian. “I want Daddy.”

Mickey pulled out his phone, hoping Ian answered on the first call. He almost cheered when Ian answered.

“You need to come home,” Mickey said, keeping his eyes on Yev.

“I didn’t run, I promise. I just wanted to give Yev time to cool down.”

“Ian, he is asking for you, and I can’t fucking help, so please come home.”

There was no argument. He could hear Ian grab his keys. “I’ll be there in ten.”

When Ian walked through the door, they were still having some weird standoff with an almost seven-year-old. They all turned and looked at him, and Yev ran to him.

“Daddy!” Ian lifted him, cradling him to his chest.

“Yevvy.” Ian kissed his hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Daddy,” He sobbed into Ian’s neck. “Why?”

“Why what, my baby boy?” Ian carried him into the bedroom and sat on his bed with him. He looked up, seeing Lana and Mickey standing at the door.

“They didn’t want me.”

“No, Yevy, remember what I said when your mom told you about the divorce?” Ian rubbed soothing circles in his back as Yev hiccuped and sobbed.

“No.”

“Remember, your mom and dad got married because he made them, but that doesn't mean they don't love each other, and you brought all of us together.” The sobs seemed to increase, so Ian started to rock and shush him. “We all love you. It’s going to be okay. Yevvy.” Ian whispered in his ear.

Ian was glad the sobs died down to whimpers then he fell asleep. Ian stood, tucking him into bed. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. He quietly left the room, grabbing Mickey and Lana on the way out. He shut the door softly and pointed to the living room with an angry hand gesture.

“What the fuck happened?” Ian asked without raising his voice, but there was no doubting he was angry. “Some stranger told that boy that his Mom was a hooker, and the next train of thought was to tell him she was an accessory to rape? That he was the result of rape?”

“I didn’t plan it.” Mickey’s voice was raised, and Ian gestured wildly, telling him to lower his voice. “He asked about Terry. He asked if Terry hurt me?”

Ian shook his head, pulling off his coat hanging it up. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. Just be prepared for the questions. After he found out about the divorce, he had questions every day.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Lana asked.

“Tell you what?” He was genuinely confused.

“That you were raped as a child.” Lana was angry, and Ian didn’t understand.

“It wasn’t rape.” He kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, untucking it. “It was just one of those things we did for Frank before we found out he was a shitty human being, and shit were all from the ghetto, we all started having sex young.”

“How old were you?” Mickey was red in the face and pissed. Ian didn’t think he’d ever seen Mickey so mad. “How old were you when he let dirty old perverts fuck you?”

Ian held up his hands, trying to calm him. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“It fucking matters,” Mickey yelled. Both Ian and Lana looked back to Yev’s bedroom. Lana left them to argue to make sure Yev stayed asleep or didn’t wake up alone.

“I don’t know, six, I think.” Ian had never talked about it with anyone, and he didn’t like it.

“So, you were Yev’s age?”

Ian shrugged, “I guess.”

“You don’t see the problem with that? You’d let Yev get fucked by old dudes?”

“No, of course not.” Ian looked at him disgusted. “But it’s different, I’m not Frank. His life is different than ours.”

Mickey looked at him with wide eyes. He buried both of his hands into his hair turning around. “Holy fuck.”

“Mick, it’s not a big deal.”

He turned around slowly, letting his hands drop. “It’s a big fucking deal. Could you have sex with a six-year-old?”

“No, that’s fucking gross.”

Mickey looked at him, hoping Ian understood. “How is Frank still alive?”

“I don’t know. Every time we think he’ll finally kick it, he survives.”

“He won't this time.” Mickey licked his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows.

Ian knew he was serious, and he didn’t want to know the details. “Okay.” He would let it happen, and he wouldn’t worry about it anymore. Frankly, it would be nice not to have to worry about Yevy getting sucked into one of his schemes. Yev had only met Frank once, and Ian took him away almost immediately.

They were sitting on the couch when Ian got the call.

“What can I do for you, Lip?” Ian asked when he saw Lip calling.

“Frank’s dead.”

“No shit.” Ian eyed Mickey, but he didn’t give anything away.

“He passed out on the tracks and died this morning.”

“So there’s nothing to bury?” Ian asked.

“We thought we should cremate him and bury it next to Monica.”

“Do I need to be there?” Ian asked, hoping he didn’t sound too nonchalant about it.

“Nah, I’ll pick up the ashes tomorrow. We’re not bothering with a headstone.” They sat in silence for a few moments before Lip cleared his throat. “Mick visited a few days ago; he told me a story I’d never heard before.”

“Oh,” Ian said as he cut his eyes to Mickey.

“I just thought you should know he’s dead, so no need to worry anymore.”

“Thanks, Lip.” He hung up and grabbed Mickey by the head and pulled him in for a kiss. “Frank’s dead.”

It was an everyday Wednesday. Ian and Yev were dancing in the kitchen to some loud metal song Mickey couldn’t follow. They were baking cakes for the school bake sale, and screaming lyrics at the top of their lungs as Mickey watched on with a smile. The kitchen was a mess, and Yev was covered in flour. Ian cut off the music with a laugh after they pulled the last cake out of the oven. Mickey stood and grabbed Ian by the waist, pulling him close.

“Marry me.” It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t need to be.

“Of course,” Ian said with a laugh and kissed him deeply.

“EW!” Yev moaned from behind them.

“Ew?” Ian held his hands up, ready to tickle him.

“No, Da!”

Ian chased him around the counter, but Mickey cut him off. They fell to the ground in a heap. Yev was pleading for them to stop in a fit of giggles. After they stopped, Yey flopped back on the floor, catching his breath.

“I’m too old for tickle wars, Dad.”

“Sure, you turn seven, and you don’t want tickles from Dad anymore. I see how it is?”

Yev laughed and threw a dishtowel at him. “Da and I made all those cakes. You can clean.”

“It will go by faster if we all clean,” Ian said from his spot near the sink.

Ian washed, Yev dried, and Mickey put away. After a few dishes, Mickey looked at Yev. “So, best man, are you going to help us tell your Mom?”

Yev laughed. “ Me and Mom had a bet to see how long it would take you to ask. I won, by the way.”

Ian ruffled his hair. “Alright big guy, time for a shower, then bed.”

The wedding was beautiful, or at least it was them. They both wore bow ties and slacks, but no extra frilly shit. The ceremony was small, just like Ian wanted. Yev stood with Mick, while Lip stood with Ian. Their families stood a few feet back as they exchanged vows, and Ian couldn’t fight back the dopy grin on his face. Yev made a gagging face when they kissed, making everyone laugh. They shotgunned their beers instead of toasting champagne; Ian didn’t want to drink something he didn’t like, and of course, they fucked in the bathroom. When they stepped out, everyone cheered, making Ian blush. It was terrific, and Debbie took hundreds of pictures that she put in an album for the couple.

Mickey sat on the Gallagher house's stoop and watched Ian chase young Frannie and Yev. His husband was the light of his life, and sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had left. Every time he thought about it, he was reminded that he almost missed the beautiful life with his family. Debbie stepped out of the house and gave him a small smile. She called the kids in for dinner, and Ian stood at the bottom of the steps trying to catch his breath. He still had trouble with his lungs when it was cold or heavy activity.

“Mick,” Ian called, waving him down the steps.

Mickey shook his head and met Ian at the bottom of the stairs. Ian grabbed his hand and pulled him into a deep kiss.

“Mnn Gallagher,”

Ian laughed and cupped his head, staring at him for a moment. “Gallagher-Milkovich.”

Mickey smiled and punched him in the arm. “Let’s go eat, bitch.”

They laughed as they walked into the house, sitting down for dinner. Mickey never thought they would be here. He had always thought he would die you, most likely at the hands of his father. He looked around, surprised that he considered everyone their Family. Ian was laughing and joking with Lana, and that was one of the biggest surprises of his life. Not once did he even dream his life would turn out this way, so instead of dwelling on it, he grabbed Ian’s hand under the table and squeezed. Ian gave him a bright smile, and Mickey could feel himself soften. He smirked as he thought- _Ian Gallagher will be the death of me one day._

___________If you are happy with this ending stop here! ANGST AND HEARTBREAK AHEAD_____________

A few years later, Ian was sitting on the bed with his bag between his legs. It was opened, and Ian was looking through the items. His first two notes were still there as well as the gun, but he had added more stuff over the years. He had added a note for Yev and one for Lana. Mickey’s message now read more as a book than a note. The one for his family needed to be tossed out and rewritten. There were also snapshots of their lives in there. One of his favorite pictures showed Mickey and Yev asleep in the blanket fort they made when he was four was at the top of the stack. Looking a the pictures now made Ian cry.

“Da?” Yev asked from the doorway.

Ian jumped, wiping the tears from his face. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Not a kid.” He mumbled.

“I know, my big fourteen-year-old,” Ian said with a smile.

“What’s that, Da?” Yev asked, hopping up on the bed,

Ian handed the pictures to Yev. “That’s our life.” Ian pointed at the first picture. “You were four here. You begged Dad to make a fort in the living room. Mom was so mad when he refused to take it down for 3 entire days.”

Yev flipped to the next picture. “Wow, are so young here.”

Ian was holding Yev above his head with a bright smile on his face. “I was sixteen; you were just a baby. I think maybe six months old.” Ian grabbed a pen. “I think I should write all this down on the back of the pictures, don’t you think?”

Yev smiled, glad to help. He grabbed the next photo. “When was this?”

Ian laughed. “That was your first birthday. You got that cake everywhere.” The picture was baby Yev in a high chair smashing his cake.

The next one was a picture of Lana and Yev in front of a giant Christmas tree. “I was eight here. I remember this.”

“Me too, it was so cold, and my lungs were aching by the end of the night.”

Yev looked at Ian’s bare chest, eyeing the scar there. He knew Ian was shot, but they had never talked about it. Ian flipped over the next picture and smiled. “Do you remember this birthday?” Ian asked Yev.

“Oh, yeah! Amy and Gemma bought that projector. I don’t remember falling asleep there, though.”

“Yeah, your mom snagged the picture.”

They went through another 30 pictures putting descriptions on the back. Ian loved telling Yev stories as they went through them. After they were done, Ian put them back in the holder and put them back in his bag. He then closed it and put it back in the closet. He and Yev stepped out in the living room, seeing Mickey dropping his keys in the bowl. Ian gave him a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was going to ruin their lives again.

After Yev went to bed, Ian grabbed the bottle of vodka he bought earlier in the day. He set it on the table and took a seat. He opened it and took a long sip. Mickey and Lana stared at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“I don’t know where to start,” Ian said, tears were burning his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “I went to the doctor last week because of all the nausea and heartburn I've had. You know I haven’t been able to eat, and I’ve lost a shit ton of weight. I thought they were just going to send me home with some heartburn meds or something, but they did all these tests.” He took another seep drink straight from the bottle.

He looked at Mickey, who was frozen. Lana reached a shaking hand out and grabbed the bottle. “Say it.” She urged, then tilted the bottle up, taking a gulp.

“It’s a tumor, cancer. Its spread to my stomach and liver. The doctor said I didn’t notice because the main symptom was heartburn. He said I’ve probably had it for a while but didn’t notice.”

Mickey stood, sending his chair flying. “What does it mean? What are we going to do?”

“There’s nothing to do. They can’t take out all the tumors, and treatments will make me really sick before I die.” Ian looked to Yev’s door, hoping they didn’t wake him. “They gave me less than a year, and I don’t want to be sick the entire time.”

“No,” Mickey said. “No, it’s not fucking real.”

“Mick, Yev is asleep.” Ian chided. “Sit down.”

Mickey ran a shakey finger over his eyebrow. “I, uh, I can’t do this.” Mickey backed away.

Ian stood slowly. “Mickey.” The tears finally fell. “Don’t go, please.”

Mickey backed into the couch. His eyes were shifting back and forth like he saw something. He turned and ran out the door without saying anything. The door slammed, and Ian let out a loud sob. He took the bottle back from Lana and drank as much as he could. He took in a few mouthfuls before he slammed it back down on the table.

“Call Iggy. Have him fin Mick and keep an eye on him.”

Lana stood quickly, grabbing her phone. He dialed out quickly, not noticing Yev sitting on the floor on the other side of the half-wall. He heard everything. Lana instructed Iggy to follow Mick and keep him safe. She took a seat next to Ian and grabbed his hand.

“You are dying, yes?” She asked.

He nodded. “I am.”

“So, what are we going to do? What about baby boy?” Lana took the bottle back.

“His birthday is in three weeks; I think we should wait until after then to tell him. I’ve been putting money away for a while now, but I think I need to get some more. I thought I could pull a few jobs.”

“Like before?” Lana slid the bottle back to him, and he took a big sip.

“If I run a few jobs, I can make sure you guys are okay without my income for a while. I don’t want Yev working like we had to.”

“And after? You do these jobs, then what?”

“I haven’t had time to think about it much, but I want to spend as much time as a family as we can.”

They sat in silence for a while. They couldn’t hear Yev cry from the other side of the room. He had his mouth covered, silencing any sobs. Lana sighed, wiping away the traitorous tears that escaped her eyes. “Yevy will not take this well. He has always reached for his daddy first.”

“I don’t want this to break him, Lana. Should we tell him?”

“It would be cruel not to.”

The bottle was nearly empty as he handed it back to Lana. “You’ll take care of Mickey too?”

Lana laughed, downing the rest of the bottle. “He’d never let me.”

Lana went to bed, leaving Ian sitting at the table. Yev crawled back to his room and cried himself to sleep. After a few hours, Iggy and Jamie carried Mickey in. They laid Mickey on the couch and looked at Ian.

“What’s this about?” Iggy asked.

“I’ve got cancer.” Jamie gasped, looking at him, noticing how sad he looked.

They didn’t stick around to talk about it. Ian looked at the passed out Mickey on the couch and sighed. He slipped off his shoes and covered the older man with a blanket. Ian gently lifted Mickey’s head, sliding in underneath him. Ian carded his fingers through the hair in his lap until he fell asleep. The next morning Ian woke feeling eyes staring at him. He opened his eyes to see Yev looking at him with tears streaming down his face.

“Yev?” Ian asked in a whisper, not wanting to wake Mickey.

“Daddy.” It was a broken whisper, and Ian knew Yev had heard last night.

“Come here, baby boy.”

Yev cuddled up next to Ian on the couch. Yev silently cried into his shirt as Ian rubbed his back. Soon all three were asleep. None of them saw Lana come in and snap a few pictures before cutting off all the lights and pulling all the curtains closed. She knew they would be tired; she was too. He took a seat on the floor next to them, letting her head rest on his knee. 

Mickey woke to soft snoring and a heavy hand in his hair. He slowly turned, looking at Ian’s peaceful face. Yev was curled into Ian’s side with his face pressed into his chest. Mickey could see his face was red and puffy from crying, making him cringe. Mickey buried his face in Ian’s belly, letting the tears fall. Ian started running his fingers through the short hair again, making Mickey sob harder. Mickey curled his fists in the soft fabric of his shirt, not wanting to let go. Lana rubbed his back as he screamed out his sobs, and Yev started crying again.

“It will be okay,” Ian whispered.

“No, Daddy, it won't.” Mickey looked up with a tear-stained face as Yev spoke. “It can’t be okay.”

They stayed cuddled there until Lana got up to start on lunch. Yev got up not long after going to his bedroom. Lana set a plate with s couple of sandwiches on the coffee table in front of them, then left them alone. Mickey looked up at Ian; his eyes were dead, and Ian cupped his cheek.

“I love you,” Ian whispered.

“What do we do?” Mickey asked, his voice was rough from the crying.

“I don’t know.” Ian pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ve been saving up money since I was a child. I think I want to split it up and let us all take a vacation. Just the four of us having a good time, making memories. The rest will help pay the bills and go to Yev.”

Mickey sat up next to him, grabbing his smokes from his pocket. He lit one taking a deep drag before handing it to Ian and lighting another. “When did you plan this?”

“Yesterday, Yev and I were looking at pictures and writing descriptions on the backs of them.”

Mickey scrubbed his hands over his face. “You need to call Lip.”

“You’ll hate it, but I want to invite them all to dinner and tell them together. I wanted to do it after Yev’s birthday.”

Mickey nodded, grabbing Ian’s knee. “Come shower with me?”

Ian smiled. “Yeah.”

They told Yev that he can’t tell anyone because Ian’s siblings don’t know yet. Yev frowned; he didn’t want to have to tell anyone, so he wouldn’t tell anyone on purpose. The day on Yev’s birthday was supposed to be a happy occasion, but neither Yev or Mickey could pretend to be happy. After everyone left, Yev wrapped his arms around Ian’s chest and hugged him tightly.

“You’ve gotten so tall. You’re not my little one anymore.” Ian said as he hugged him tightly.

“I’ll always be your little one, Da.”

Ian laughed and ruffled his hair. “Glad to hear that, kiddo.”

Ian called Lip later in the evening, telling him they all needed to come over for dinner the next night. When Lip laughed and asked if someone was dying, Ian just told him to make sure everyone is there. They all sat around the table as Ian made sure everything was perfect, and Lana was snapping pictures. She wanted to make sure she got some happy one before it was ruined. Mickey grabbed her arm and shook his head after the 100th or so photo. Lana took a seat and kissed Yev’s cheek. Everyone at the table was surprised when he didn’t complain, but no one said anything.

The food was good, and everyone laughed and joked around. Once dinner was over, Lip cleared his throat, grabbing Ian’s attention.

“Not that this hasn’t been great, but what’s this about? Some of us have to work in the morning.” Lip said with a smirk.

Yev scowled, ready to yell at the dumb fuck, but Lana grabbed his shoulder and shook her head. “Don’t talk to Da like that.”

Everyone looked at Yev. “It’s okay, buddy,” Ian said with a small smile. “Lip’s right; we need to get to the reason I asked you all here.” Mickey looked over, noticing that Ian’s hand was shaking, so he grabbed it. Everyone saw, and it didn’t sit right. Mickey was not a hand holder. “I’ve had some awful nausea and heartburn. It’s been so bad I’ve lost about 30 pounds, so I went to the doctor. They did some scans and found some, well, it was, I had,” Ian took a wavering breath.

“Cancer,” Mickey said, unable to watch Ian struggle to find the right words.

“Cancer?” Lip asked.

“Cancer,” Ian confirmed. “Stage four esophageal cancer.”

“So,” Carl started but couldn’t find the words.

“So, Da is going to die.” Yev finished for him.

They all sat there in shock until Debbie let out a small sob. Lip grabbed her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but he was shaking and nauseous. Carl leaned back, running his hands through his long hair.

Lip looked back at Ian with a frown. “So, what does this mean? What’s going to happen?”

“Well, we discussed it, and I decided against treatment.”

“What the fuck?” Lip slammed his fist down, startling everyone at the table. “Are you going to just let it kill you?”

Ian’s face stayed calm, but Mickey and Yev were vibrating with anger. “We decided against treatment because it’s not a cure. It would only add months to my life, and I would be deathly ill the entire time.”

“So you’re giving up?” Lip yelled.

Yev stood up, yelling back. “Don’t yell at my, Da!”

“Your, Da,” He mocked. “is a fucking moron. He’s throwing his fucking life away.”

“Lip,” Carl yelled, grabbing him by the shirt. “Fucking stop, man. Didn’t you hear him? It will make him sick. He’s trying to live what’s left of his life.”

“It’s spread to my stomach and liver.” Ian cleared his throat, glancing at Yev. “They told me with treatment they can give me two years, but with constant Chemo and radiation. Without treatment, I can have a year, maybe a little bit more.”

“So, you’re ready to give up?” Lip asked as he slowly stood.

“It’s not like that Lip. I want to spend time with my family. I don’t want to be deathly ill from the treatments. I want to take my son to a concert and teach him how to shoot a gun. I want to teach my husband how to swim and go to the beach. I want in on some of the crazy scams Liam has been running. I want to teach Frannie to pickpocket. I can’t do all of that If I am wasting away in my death bed.”

Lip stood slowly, backing away from the table. He looked from Ian to Mickey and scowled. He left without another word.

“So,” Carl started bringing his hands up in front of himself. “What’s the plan? Big hurrah? Death party?”

Ian chuckled, and Mickey squeezed his hand tightly. “I actually need you guy’s help. I have enough money saved up to cover some bills and get Yev started at school, but it’s not nearly enough.”

“How much money are we talking about?” Debbie asked.

“Be right back,” Ian said as he stood and scurried to the bedroom. He came back with a familiar bag and dropped it on the table. He unzipped it and grabbed the gun first, and handed it to Mick. He then pulled out two thick envelopes. He set them on the table, so everyone can see them. He pointed to the one that had Yev written across it. “This one is for Yev. It was supposed to be a college fund, but I don’t know if that’s what he wants, so I had hoped I could give it to him one day to do whatever he wants with it.” He pointed to the next one that was blank. “This is what is left from the jobs I did with Frank a while back, and I put any extra money I have in here.” He picked it up, opening it.

“That’s a lot of cash,” Carl noted, looking at the over an inch-thick stack of bills with squinted eyes.

Ian nodded. “I had to dip into it last year when Yev broke his arm, but it’s 52,000.”

“And that’s not enough?” Carl asked.

Ian grabbed a notebook from the bag and flipped it open, showing a page of calculations. At the bottom was the circled number of 102,000 dollars. “I’ve nearly paid off the house. If I keep up what I’ve been doing, I can have it paid off in the next four months with 10,000. Then it’s just making sure the monthly bills get paid. Right now, that is about 1,100 a month. So, 30,000 for two year's worth of bills. I have 30,000 in Yev’s envelope for school or whatever. That’s 70,000 in just maintenance. The rest I want to use to do vacations and fun things as a family.” Ian tucked the money back in the envelope and grabbed Yev’s. He folded both back into the bag. “So, that’s 82,000 of the 102,000 that I want, but I also have this.” Ian pulled out a pound of meth and dropped it on the table.

“Is that Monica meth?” Debbie asked as she reached for it.

Ian laughed. “Yeah, Fiona didn’t want me getting caught up in all the mess, but she brought me my share.”

Debbie passed it to Carl. “I can get 10,000 for it by the end of next week.” He said as he let it drop to the table in front of him.

“So that’s 92,000. We only need to make another 10 grand.”

“But how, Da?” Yev asked.

“Gallagher ingenuity,” Liam answered. He looked from Yev to Ian. “You want to do the good ole tried and true? Parking scam?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t really want to steal any cars. Last time Lip and I spent the night handcuffed to a bench at the precinct.”

“You stole cars?” Mickey asked with his eyebrows raised.

“We did it a lot when we lived out of cars, but last time we were working for Jack-Jimmy-Steve and got arrested.” Ian ran his hand along Mickey’s thigh. “I was thinking more like the last job Frank, and I pulled.”

“The drugs?” Lana asked, worried about them getting arrested.

“It’s a party favor trick. We have the drugs; they have wallets, jewelry, and keys. If you do it with enough people and enough drugs, you can clean out fifteen or more people.” Carl said with a shrug. “Last time, it was just Me, Frank and Ian. We left with 1,200 each.”

“No, you left with 1,200. I left with 800, and Frank left with 1,600. He made me pay him back for the drugs that he probably stole, but I didn’t have time to fight him about it. Lana didn’t have a job, and Mickey was still working as a bouncer at that shitty club.”

Carl shook his head, and Lana looked at Yev, who was looking around with wide eyes. “Yev should not be here for this.”

Mickey scoffed, clapping his hand on Yev’s shoulder. “He is fifteen. We can’t keep the lives we have lead from him. These are things he needs to know in the south side.”

Ian nodded in agreement, hoping Lana understood. “Either way, over the next four months, let’s work a couple of jobs to get the money. I’ll pay off the house, then we will go from there.”

They all agreed and left, leaving Ian, Mickey, Yev, and Lana at the table. Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand and squeezed hard enough to hurt. Yev looked at Ian and Mickey with a sad smile.

“So, a vacation, Da?”

Everyone at the table loved the way Ian perked up at the mention of it. “Yeah, I thought we should go somewhere warm. Maybe we can rent a house on the beach. It would just be the four of us, but perhaps every one else can come and visit. We can teach Dad how to swim and ride jet skis.”

“That sounds fun, Da.”

Lana grabbed his hand under the table, giving it a small squeeze. Mickey brought Ian’s hand up to his mouth and gave it a little kiss. They were keeping brave faces for Yev, but it seemed like Yev was doing the same thing.

A few weeks later, Ian taught Yev a valet scam, and they laughed the entire way home. Sometimes, Ian would forget he was dying, but he could see his son’s smiling face and remember in moments of stark clarity. Yev was standing in the kitchen telling Mickey everything they did, and Ian dreaded the future. The times he wouldn’t be there to see the bright smile or dry his tears.

Ian grabbed Mickey by the belt loop and kissed him, and for the first time, Yev didn’t voice any disgust. Ian looked up and saw Yev had his phone out, most likely snapping a picture. “Hey, brat! Are you taking pictures of us?”

“Nope!” Yev said as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

Mickey scoffed and shoved Ian away. “I hear you’ve been teaching my kid petty tricks.”

Ian laughed, taking a seat, his body was tired, and he was ready for a nap. “I’ve been teaching him the Gallagher way.”

“Good thing he’s a Milkovich,” Mickey mumbled.

“Umm.” Yev said with a red face. Yev ran a hand through his curly hair. “It’s Gallagher-Milkovich.”

“What!” Mickey yelled as Ian almost fall out of his chair, laughing.

“Me and Mom went and got my name changed last week. We thought that since both of you are Gallagher-Milkovich, I should be too.” Yev handed Mickey a sandwich that he started eating immediately.

Ian gave him a bright smile, and Mickey couldn’t argue with the sentiment. “It’s fine, I guess,” Mickey said, but he smiled when he looked at Ian.

Yev put a sandwich down in front of Ian, hoping he would eat it. “Thanks, kiddo,” Ian said, making a show of taking a bite.

Yev hated the idea of his Dad wasting away. “Can’t they do something?” Yev asked with a small frown as Ian pushed the plate away.

“Can who do something about what?” Ian asked as he noticed Mickey eyeing the sandwich. He wished he could eat it, but the bite he took was stuck in the bottom of his esophagus as they spoke.

“Can the doctors do anything to help you eat?”

Mickey perked up, waiting for an answer. Ian sighed, looking away. “They can do surgery to take the tumor out. It would open up the esophagus, letting me swallow.”

“Would that cure the cancer?” Yev asked, and Ian cringed at how excited he got.

“No, buddy. They’ve found twelve tumors. It would just be to make things easier for me.”

Ian eyed Mickey; he knew Mickey didn’t like hearing about the cancer. “Maybe we should think about doing it, Gallagher. We can’t do anything if you blow away in the fucking wind.” Mickey’s voice was calm, but Ian could see his hand was shaking.

“Yeah, Da, you are always so tired, and you’ve lost a lot of weight.”

Ian sighed, scrubbing his hand down his jean covered thigh. “I’ll talk to the doctor about it at the next appointment.”

“Since dad doesn’t come with you, maybe I should, Da. I could help out some.”

“No.” Mickey cut in. “I’m going. You shouldn’t have to do that, kiddo.”

They lapsed into silence, and Ian could see Yev debating on what to say next. “You can still help out, Yevvy,” Ian said. “but you don’t need to come to the appointments. Like Dad said, he’ll be there.”

“Okay, Da.”

The surgery went well. They were able to do everything laparoscopically, and Ian went home the next day. He smiled when Yev brought him oatmeal for breakfast after his surgery, and he was able to eat it all. His stomach had shrunk during the time he couldn’t eat, but he was able to eat more than he had before.

At the four-month mark, Yev woke to his parents arguing in the kitchen.

“We can just quit our jobs,” Lana yelled, and Ian shook his head.

“I don’t think that is a good idea. I’m leaving plenty of money, but what if something goes wrong? I need to make sure you guys will be okay.” Ian yelled back. Yev could see his shoulders were shaking.

“What are you going to do? Not die? That would be a fucking trick?” Mickey spat. Yev had never really saw his parents fight before. They had always tried to keep it from him.

“You think I want to die?” Ian stood clenching his fists.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mickey said, keeping his voice even.

“Fuck you!” Ian slammed his fist on the table. “You know that I have worked really fucking hard to keep going. You say I always run when things get rough, but I didn’t fucking run.”

“No, you still have a loaded gun sitting in the closet for just in case.” Mickey spat.

Lana reached out to grab Ian’s arm because she could see him shaking. She hoped they wouldn’t break out in a fistfight. It had been years, but she didn’t want Yev to see it. Ian stared at him with hard eyes. “When was the last time I pulled it out? When was the last time I cleaned it?”

“I wouldn’t fucking know you don’t tell me shit!” Mickey shouted back.

Lana stepped between the two. “Stop, you woke Yev.”

“I have told you everything. How can you still throw this in my face?” Ian stared at him for a few moments before he turned to face Yev. He tried to plaster a big smile on his face. “Go back to bed. Everything is fine out here.”

“There you go lying to the boy.” Mickey spat.

Yev watched Ian’s face fall. Ian shook his head, trying to fight back the tears. “Yev, go to bed. We’ll try to keep it down.”

“Da, he’s just scared; he doesn’t mean to lash out.” Yev said, hugging Ian. “You told me that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, buddy, I know. Go back to bed now. I’ll check in on you in the morning, okay?”

Yev nodded, giving him a small smile, but he gave Mickey a dirty look as he passed him to go back to bed.

Mickey pulled out his phone, making a call. He looked Ian in the eye as he talked to his boss. “Hey, Ron. That family thing we talked about earlier, I can’t come in. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Mickey listened to a response. “Yeah, It’s going to be months at least, maybe a year or more.” Ian shook his head in exasperation. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Mickey hung up the phone, tucking it back into his pocket. “Do you really think I am not going to spend every moment with you that I can? Fuck you for even thinking that.”

“It’s not like that, Mick. I don’t need a babysitter. I quit my job because I needed to do it before I had to, but you didn’t have to.”

“Good thing I’m not a babysitter. I am your fucking husband.”

Lana cleared her throat. “I will be here. For you, for Yevvy, I don’t know, but I feel like I need to be here.”

“Lana, don’t quit.” Ian pleaded. “We need some kind of normalcy. It can’t all be about me.”

“Ian!” She shouted, stomping her foot. “We have lived together for fifteen years. My only baby still calls you Daddy when he is sick or tired. You may not be my husband, but you are family. It is about you, only because we love you.”

“I love you too, Lana.” Ian gingerly sat back down. “What about Yev?”

Lana sighed, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the freezer. “He is a bright boy.” She said as she sat next to Ian. “We will do home school. It is going to be a tough year for him.”

Mickey took his seat and snagged the bottle. He opened it and took a sip before he passed it to Ian. “You know, when I was his age, I used to wish my father would die.”

“Me too,” Ian said, taking a big drink.

“Me also,” Lana said, looking to the closed door of Yev’s room. “Too bad this might break him.”

They passed the bottle back and forth until it was empty. Ian was red-faced and smiling. Lana pretended not to see Ian grope Mickey as they shuffled to bed. She hated what was happening to her family. She wondered what she had done to deserve it. She feared losing Ian would break Yev. He had always reached for Ian first. When he was a baby, she used to get jealous, but now it made her smile. Yev would come home from school, hollering for Ian just to tell him about his day. She dreaded the day he wasn’t there to hear Yev’s crazy stories. She looked to the closed door when she heard a whispered _Ian._ She feared what it would do to Mickey. She had never known them apart, and she feared that she may never.

The concert Yev wanted to attend was some off the wall Jazz Death Metal band Ian had never hear of. Lana took what seemed like millions of pictures of them all dressed up. Ian even put on heavy eyeliner, making Mickey laugh. They dropped Ian and Yev off at the venue hours early, and there was already a line. Ian chuckled as Yev practically drug him to the line. He desperately wanted to be upfront. Ian ruffled his hair, and Yev punched him in the arm.

“I’m supposed to look cool, Da, not like a kid.”

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but you have a babyface.”

Yev scoffed but still pulled out his phone, looking at himself. “Whatever, I’ve already outgrown Dad. Soon, I’ll outgrow you too.”

“Yeah, yeah, brat.”

Ian hated the music, but he had a great time. They even got into a mosh pit, and somewhere Ian lost his shirt. One kid with a mohawk ran face-first into Ian’s chest and on his but. Ian laughed as he helped him up, but the kid couldn’t take his eyes off the scar from his bullet wound. Ian dropped his hand and smiled when he saw that Yev was frowning.

Yev gave the kid a small shove. “Yeah, it's from a bullet, now quit staring, jackass.”

Ian raised an eyebrow as Yev grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the front. Yev kept shooting him looks and glancing around. “What’s up, Yev?” Ian yelled over the music.

“You want my shirt, so they will stop staring?”

Ian looked around, noticing that some guys were indeed staring. “No. Just enjoy your show.”

Yev huffed but went back to enjoying the music. Lana and Mickey Picked them up from the curb. Ian had Yev in a headlock when they pulled up as Yev gave him light punched to the side. Lana pulled out her phone and took a few photos before she honked her horn, getting their attention. Ian let Yev go, and they both jogged to the car.

When they were both settled, Mickey turned around, eyeing them both. “How did you lose your fucking shirt?”

“Some brat ripped it in the mosh pit. It was easier to just toss it.” Ian said.

“Yeah, then they kept staring at his scar like no one ever gets shot in fucking Chicago.” Yev said with a frown.

Ian chuckled. “Yeah. This one is all, you Mick. He almost punched a kid for staring.”

“No, he’s you, because I would have actually hit him, not just almost,” Mickey said with a smile as he watched his son check over Ian, making sure he was okay.

“No, he’s all Yevvy,” Lanna said from the driver’s seat.

Two months later, everything was set up for them to go on vacation. Ian looked over at Mickey, who was packing his bag. Later in the day, they were going to get in the car and drive cross country. They had decided that San Diego was where they were going to spend their time. Ian slowly packed as he looked around the room. He knew he would never come back. He and Mickey had talked about it some, but they had never confirmed that Ian would die in California. Mickey looked up at him with sad eyes, and Ian had to look away. He was scared.

“I’m going to check in on Yev,” Mickey said, leaving Ian to pack up.

Mickey knocked on Yev’s door and stepped into the room. Yev was sitting on the floor, looking at the framed picture of all of them at the wedding. He looked up at Mickey as he put the picture in his suitcase.

“Da doesn’t plan on coming back, does he?” Yev asked.

Mickey shut the door and sat on the bed. “No, he doesn’t.”

Yev nodded, tugging on a frayed string on the hem of his jeans. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?” Mickey asked as his heart started to race.

Yev looked up shyly. “Do you plan on coming back?”

Mickey looked away because he didn’t know the answer. “Why do you ask that?” Mickey wanted to deny thinking about it, but he couldn’t.

“Mom has been trying to prepare me, I think. She says you don’t know how to live without Da, and no matter how much you love us, losing him will destroy you.”

Mickey turned quickly, looking at Yev. “And I do love you! I love you so much.”

“I know you do, Dad, and I love you.” Yev stood wrapping his arms around Mickey’s shoulders. “And I understand, but I want you to come home.”

Mickey wrapped his arms around Yev, hugging him tightly. “I’ll try.”

The drive took almost five days. They stopped at every landmark and tourist trap they came across. The house they rented was beautiful and on the water. They could wake up every morning and walk down to the water as they drank their coffee. They didn’t know how long they had, so they did as much as they could as soon as they could. Ian was weak and took a lot of different pills to keep steady. They had found out the cancer spread to his brain the week before they left.

It was a month later when the seizures started. Mickey was out with Lana doing the shopping when it happened. Ian and Yev were in the kitchen making sandwiches. Ian had stopped mid-laugh and froze.

“Da?” Yev had asked when he dropped the knife he was holding. After a moment, Ian dropped like a sack of potatoes and started convulsing. “Daddy?” Yev yelled as he reached out for him. Ian’s bladder released as he shook. Yev fell to the ground touching Ian’s face. Yev was sobbing when the shaking stopped. “Daddy?” Ian didn’t respond, making Yev panic; he stood running to the living room, getting his phone. He dialed 911, asking for an ambulance.

“No, I don’t know what happened. Da was laughing, then he was on the ground shaking.”

“Is he awake?”

“No, his eyes are closed.”

“Okay, Yev, Is he breathing?”

“I think so.” Ian gasped a little bit and groaned. “He is. He’s breathing.”

“Good, Did he throw up?”

“No, but I think he peed on himself.”

“That happens. It is normal. Can you roll him on his side?”

Yev dropped the phone and got to his knees again. He shifted Ian putting him on his side. He grabbed the phone, putting it back to his ear. “I did it.”

“Good job, Yev. The ambulance should be there soon.”

“Okay.” Yev was still sobbing. “Fuck.” He said. “I have to call my Dad. He doesn’t know Da is sick.”

Yev didn’t wait on the lady to say anything. He hung up, calling his Dad.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes, Kid.”

“Dad.” Yev sobbed out. “Daddy is sick. I called 911. He fell and was shaking, Dad,”

“Shit! Lana, come on!” Mickey yelled. “We’re coming, Yev. What is he doing now?”

“He’s sleeping now.” Yev ran his shaking hand over Ian’s face. “I’m scared.”

“I’m almost there.” Yev could hear Mickey panting as he ran.

After a few moments, the door slammed open, and Mickey ran to Ian’s side. Yev looked at him; his face was covered in tears and snot. “He hasn’t woken up.”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Mickey said. “The doctors told us this might happen.”

Mickey ran a shaky hand through Ian’s sweaty hair. When the EMTs got there, Ian was awake and alert. His face was red with embarrassment. He tucked his face into Mickey’s chest and cried. Lana talked to the paramedic, telling them he doesn’t need to go to the hospital. Yev got a blanket and covered Ian up as he sobbed into Mickey’s chest. The EMT’ left, telling him to go to the hospital if it happens again or if it lasts more than five minutes.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Yev asked from the corner.

Ian sat up slowly, wiping his tears. He put on a small smile for Yev. “Yeah, bud. I am so sorry that happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mickey said from behind him. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Mickey pulled Ian to his feet and led him to the bathroom. Ian cried softly as Mickey lowered his weak body into the tub after stripping him. Mickey turned on the spigot and let the warm water filled the tub as Ian layer his head on his shoulder.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Mickey said, trying to calm Ian.

“Yev was terrified.” 

Mickey grabbed a washcloth and gently released his skin. “I know.” He sighed. “I know.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Ian said with his eyes closed.

Mickey paused, feeling his heart drop. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ian shifted as he tried to lift his hand and touch Mickey’s face, but his arm was too heavy.

“We are here for you. We will do everything at your pace.”

“A little while longer,” Ian said as he started to doze off.

After Ian fell asleep, Mickey collapsed against the side of the tub. Tears dripped down his nose as he pressed his forehead to Ian’s. Take clinched his teeth holding back sobs; he did not want to disturb his sleeping husband.

Mickey shut the bedroom door gently and looked to the kitchen. Yev and Lana had cleaned the mess on the floor, and Mickey was glad. He didn’t want Ian to have to think about what had happened that afternoon. Mickey grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a seat at the table.

“Where’s Da?”

“Laying down.” Mickey chugged his beer and set the empty can down. “Yev, go to the bedroom or something.”

“No,” Yev said with fear in his eyes.

“Yev, do not fucking argue. Get out of here.” Mickey snarled.

“No, you're going to talk about how Da is going to die soon, and I want to stay!” Yev yelled back.

Mickey stood and strode out the door. He grabbed a potted plant and threw it against the wall watching it shatter. He grabbed one of the deck chairs and slammed it against the ground until it was in pieces. Mickey fell to the ground in a heap. “Fuck.”

“Dad?” Yev asked from behind him.

“He said he didn’t think he could do it anymore. It could be any fucking day. My fucking husband will die any fucking day now, and I don’t know what to do!” Mickey shifted, sitting leaning against the wall. Yev slumped down next to him and watched the waves crash against the shore. Yev laid his head on Mickey’s shoulder, breathing in his scent.

Ian woke with a pounding headache. He had a near-constant dull throb in his skull for weeks, but now it felt like someone had opened his head and mixed his brains up. He groaned and rolled on his side. His constant nausea was at an all-time high as he struggled to his feet. He rushed to the bathroom on weak legs and collapsed in front of the toilet, losing his meager breakfast. He dry heaved, coughing up blood. He flushed the toilet and sat there, unable to get up. He heard the bedroom door open and heavy steps walking into the room.

“Da?” Yev called out.

“In the bathroom, bud. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Ian ran a shaking hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to stand. His body was weak and ached. The cancer had spread to numerous places, including his brain, which hurt more than he thought it would. He stepped out the door and put a small smile on for Yev, who was sitting on the bed.

“You okay, Da?”

“Yeah, kiddo. Let’s get Mom and Dad and go take a walk down the beach.”

A few days later, Ian had another seizure in bed, terrifying Mickey. Once Ian came to, he sobbed in pain. Everything hurt, and he vomited all over himself and the bed. Mickey ran this hand through Ian’s sweat-dampened hair, trying to soothe him. The seizures had become more frequent, and he had started vomiting blood a few times per day, keeping him from eating. Mickey knew that he was starving.

“Mick,” it was a pleading whisper.

“I know.” Mickey knew he was in pain, and he was at the end of his tether. It was cruel to make him stick around.

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispered.

“I know,” Mickey said, staring at the dull green eye of his husband. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

After they got cleaned up, Mickey helped Ian to the deck chairs to watch the sun come up over the ocean.

“Today,” Ian said, and Mickey understood.

They sat in silence, pretending that they had not confirmed that Ian would commit suicide later that day. Yev walked out in his pajamas and crawled up into Ian’s lap. Ian wrapped his arms tightly around the large teen; Yev buried his face into Ian’s neck and silently cried. Ian pressed a kiss to his hair and looked at Mickey over the boy's head. Mickey’s eyes were filled with tears, and his fists were clenched.

After the sheets were clean, Ian and Mickey spent hours in bed. Lana and Yev spent most of the day in silence, sitting on the deck trying to enjoy the sun. They were woken to another seizure, and Mickey wiped the blood from Ian’s mouth. Ian was worn out and in pain.

Once the sun went down, the small family gathered on the deck. Mickey took a seat in a deck chair and situated Ian in his lap. Yev took a seat on the ground at their feet as Lana unzipped the bag. She pulled out a smaller black bag and unsnapped it; inside sat a vile of a combination of drugs and a syringe. They knew it would be quick once it was in his bloodstream. She pulled up the dose she was looking for and gently grabbed his arm.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

He laid his head against Mickey’s chest and nodded. Yev was silently crying as he held on to his Dad’s leg. Ian used his free hand to grab Yev’s hand. Mickey let silent tears fall as Lana injected the drugs. Mickey could feel Ian’s breath on his neck, and he started whispering.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Until the breath stopped.

Lana grabbed his shoulder as a scream ripped from his throat. Yev brought Ian’s limp hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the skin. Sobs ripped from Mickey’s chest as he held on to Ian. He didn’t need to look to see Ian was dead. He didn’t know long they sat there, but Lana had fell to her knees cradling Yev to her chest. Mickey ran a hand through the red hair tipping Ian’s head back. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, glad the eyes were closed. He wouldn’t have made it if he had to see Ian’s lifeless eyes. He stood slowly carrying Ian’s body to the bedroom, and he laid him on the bed as Lana called for an ambulance. Mickey kneeled next to the bed holding Ian’s cooling hand.

After they took the body, Mickey walked down to the water. He fell to his knees as the waves rushed around his body. The moon was bright and taunting. Mickey fell back, laying flat on his back with his arms stretched out wide. His husband was dead.

The trip back to Chicago was silent. Mickey had not said one word since Ian died, not even to Yev. The funeral was beautiful. Lana had blown up many of the pictures she had captured, putting them on display. Mickey said next to the headstone in the freshly dug dirt, tracing Ian’s name in the stone. He pressed his forehead against the stone as he reached for the gun tucked in his waistband. _Ian’s gun_ – He thought it was only right. When they found him the next morning, no one was surprised. There was no Mickey Milkovich without Ian Gallagher.


End file.
